Ex  Htbris 


SEYMOUR    DURST 


-^'  yort  nieMw    t^Afn/tertUt-m,  of  Je  Hawatarus 


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^ 


CELIO: 


OE, 


NEW     YORK 


ABOYE-GROUND    AND    UNDER-GROUND. 


BT 


(0^ S .  M%  ^n^r 

AVTHOS     or     *'1I1W     YORK     BY     ffASLIQHT,**     BTO 


NEW    YORK: 

DEWnr   &  DAVENPORT,   TRIBUNE   BUILDINGa, 


NASSAU   8TRBBT. 


fs 


t 


Imtbrcd  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  18S0,  ky 

DEWITT  &  DAVENPORT, 

m  lAe  Cleik'8  office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  Southern  District  of  New  Tofk. 


PREFACE. 


We  do  not  know  thatf  any  apology  is  necessary  for  speaking  a  little  freely 
in  this  place  of  the  character  and  design  of  this  novel.  The  flimsy  fiction 
which  forbade  an  author  to  be  conscious  of  his  literary  existence,  or  to  know 
that  he  had  writen  at  all,  is  exploded,  along  with  John  Doe  and  Richard 
Roe,  and  the  rest  of  the  ragged  regiment  of  toys  with  which  our  ancestral 
children  of  a  larger  growth  were  wont  to  amuse  themselves ;  and  we  believe 
it  no  more  impugns  a  man's  modesty  to  seem  to  be  aware  that  he  has  written 
than  it  disgraces  a  married  lady  to  confess  to  the  maternity  of  her  children. 

The  writer  of  "  Celio,"  then,  conceived  his  book  with  the  purpose  of  intro- 
ducing a  new  idea  into  fictional  literature.  In  all  ages  and  all  countries  the 
predominant  sentiment  of  the  permanently  popular  literature  has  been  and 
must  ever  be,  in  some  form,  chivalry.  Real  life  has  so  many  meannesses, 
60  much  undignified  annoyance  and  ignoble  suflfering,  that  men  turn  to  litera- 
ture as  a  relief  from  the  depressing  monotony  of  circumstances  and  infiuences 
by  which  they  are  daily  surrounded.  And  although  overcharged  pictures 
of  that  very  hell  into  which  men's  perverted  passions  and  misdirected  selfish- 
ness have  converted  society,  may  startle  the  reader  into  a  temporary  excite- 
ment, yet  they  are  soon  and  gladly  forgotten— while  heroism,  however 
imperfectly  conceived  or  inadequately  displayed,  creates  at  once  an  undying 
mterest  in  every  heart.  This  has  been  well  understood  by  all  the  masters  of 
romance  whose  names  the  public  trouble  themselves  to  remember.  Butj 
taking  example  from  the  general  character  and  tendency  of  the  ages  in  which 
they  lived — and  of  which  perhaps  alone  they  knew — their  heroes  have  been 
the  heroes  of  the  camp  and  the  dungeon — marvelously  expert  shedders  of 
blood,  miraculously  patient  in  enduring  the  inflictions  of  tyranny  and  oppres- 
sion. In  fact,  it  is  enough  to  make  a  good-hearted  man  weep  to  look  over  the 
field  of  fictional  literature,  as  of  history,  and  see  how  much  self-denial,  fortitude, 
courage,  prowess,  faith  and  devotion  have  been  either  frivolously  expended 
or  absolutely  thrown  away.  Who  can  fail  to  be  penetrated  to  the  heart's  core 
by  the  dove-like  resignation  of  Rebecca  and  the  noble  constancy  of  Ivanhoel 
Yet  who  has  ever  followed  their  sad  fate  without  lamenting  their  mutual 
folly,  which  wasted  the  glorious  attributes  of  these  choice  spirits  upon  an  idle 
and  ridiculous  whim  ?  And  who  has  liot  paused  to  ask  himself,  amid  the 
fearful  din  of  Cceur  de  Lion's  battle-ax  thundering  down  the  gates  of  Front 
de  BoBuf 's  castle,  "  What  comes  of  all  this  1" 

But  it  seems  to  us  that  it  is  time  for  chivalry  to  get  out  of  leading-strings 
and  devote  itself  to  some  worthier  end  than  maintaining  with  lance  and  life 


4:  PREFACE. 

that  a  certain  lady's  eyes  were  brighter  than  the  stars,  or  immolating  the 
most  precious  and  most  sacred  affections  of  the  heart  upon  the  altar  of  ridicu- 
lous and  barbarous  prejudice.  The  past  has  shown  that  there  is  abundance 
of  chivalry  in  the  human  heart — let  the  future  show  how  to  expend  it  in 
elevating  the  condition  of  humanity,  and  beautifying  the  earth,  its  dwelling- 
place. 

It  is  with  such  thoughts  as  these  that  "  Celio"  has  been  composed.  The 
principal  characters  that  figure  in  it,  although  copies  from  no  particular  indi- 
viduals, are  drawn  from  real  life  ;  and  the  situations  in  which  they  are  placed 
and  the  trials  to  which  they  are  subjected,  arise  indispensably  from  the 
author's  purpose  to  show  the  play  of  that  spirit  of  wide-reaching  and  all- 
grasping  philanthropy  silently  at  work  in  so  many  thousand  hearts.  It  is  his 
belief  that  this  spirit  will  extend  from  soul  to  soul — reaching  upward  and 
downward,  as  it  goes,  and  bringing  all  classes  upon  an  electric  level — until 
the  whole  world  will  be  suddenly  born  again,  and  with  a  new  heart,  new 
perceptions,  new  impulses  and  new  .aspirations,  will  look  back  with  incredu- 
lous wonder  at  the  dark  and  narrow  crysalis  in  which  it  was  so  long 
imprisoned. 

As  to  the  moral  of  the  story,  the  author  trusts  that  it  will  be  found  in  every 
page  of  the  book  itself;  yet,  lest  any  should  be  disappointed  in  looking  for  it 
here,  it  is  proper  to  say  that  the  key  of  the  story  and  the  characters  who 
figure  in  it,  is  the  author's  belief  that  vice  and  misery  are  not  the  necessary- 
result  of  human  life  in  this  world ;  and  that  were  human  nature  not  distorted, 
evil  would  not  exist.  With  the  poet  (and  all  the  poets)  we  hold  that  "  none 
are  all  evil,"  and  that,  under  the  influence  of  favorable  circumstances  and 
beneficent  social  institutions,  all  might  and  would  be  good. 

Carrying  out  this  doctrine,  should  any  reader  find  this  book  a  poor  one,  let 
him  attribute  it  to  the  influence  of  unfortunate  circumstances  and  the  mis- 
application of  its  author's  powers— consoling  himself  with  the  reflection  that 
it  might  have  been  better. 

New  York,  December,  1849. 


C  EL  I  0. 


CHAPTER  I. 

MIDNIGHT  AND  AN  UNEXPECTED  CONVERSATION. THE  BATTERY  AND 

A  SOLILOQUY. 

It  was  deep  night.  The  moon  was  set  down  in  the  almanac  to 
Bhine,  and  the  careful  burghers  of  course  could  not  afford  both  gas 
and  moonlight,  so  no  lamps  were  lighted.  But  the  moon  had  long 
burnt  out  and  chastely  retired  behind  her  cloudy  curtains,  and  the 
stifling  robe  of  night,  its  black  folds  moist  with  dew,  hung  close 
about  the  sleeping  city.  Gradually  the  noises  in  the  streets  had 
subsided — the  omnibuses  had  ceased  their  deafening  rattle,  and  the 
cabs  and  carriages  of  loiterers  at  the  saloon,  the  cafe  or  the  club 
had  driven  their  last  fares  hurriedly  home  and  disappeared.  The 
broad  glare  of  the  gas-lights  from  numerous  oyster-abysses,  where 
eating  and  drinking  under  ground  was  carried  on  as  never  eating 
and  drinking  was  carried  on  above  ground,  were  seen,  was  extin- 
guished ;  and  save  here  and  there,  where  the  ever-burning  lamp  in 
front  of  the  residence  of  some  fashionable  physician  told  the  night- 
errant  husband,  suddenly  yet  not  unexpectedly  aroused,  that  here 
lived  whom  he  sought, — not  a  ray  of  light  pierced  the  darkness. 
The  street-stragglers  had  departed,  each  his  several  way — the  beggar 
to  his  hole,  the  thief  to  his  dram-shop  and  midnight  revel,  the 
painted  prostitute  dragging  her  victim  to  her  loathsome  den ;  and 
no  sound  broke  the  stillness  in  the  midst  of  the  thickly-peopled  city, 
save  now  and  then  at  weary  intervals  the  club  of  the  watchman 
ringing  hollowly  against  the  empty  pavement,  or  the  footfall  of  some 
tired  reporter  creeping  away  from  his  hard  toil.  The  very  echoes 
had  fled  from  the  walk,  which  a  few  hours  before  had  resounded  with 
the  hurrying  tread  and  trample  of  thousands  of  human  beings,  now 
gone  like  the  figures  in  a  puppet-dance  when  the  tune  is  played  out. 
Receding  from  the  quarters  of  the  street  occupied  by  trade  and 
commerce,  and  which  were  now  all  dark  and  silent  as  the  ruined 
fanes  of  Palmyra,  here  and  there  one  might  see  lights  glimmering 
behind  the  curtains  of  some  palatial  residence,  or  a  line  of  carriages 


6  CELIO. 

drawn  up  before  the  door,  showing  that  here  the  revel  was  still  pro- 
longed ;  that  here  the  nameless  rites  of  Folly,  worshipping  at  the 
shrine  of  Fashion,  were  not  concluded. 

Before  one  of  these  it  is  our  business,  for  a  moment,  to  stop — but 
not  to  enter.  Hereafter  destiny  may  lead  us  up  those  broad  marble 
steps  and  through  those  massive  doors,  and  amid  the  scenes, 
whether  of  joy  or  sorrow,  they  enclose.  The  doors  are  thrown 
open,  and  half-a-dozen  beautiful  women,  dressed  like  fairies,  float 
out  with  the  light,  and  are  hurried  by  their  attendant  cavaliers  into 
the  quickly  closing  carriages,  wliich  one  by  one  hurry  swiftly  away, 
while  the  hostess  bids  her  last  guest  farewell,  and  lias  attended 
her  with  unusual  deference  to  the  hall  door,  where  she  stands,  for  a 
moment,  watching  their  departure,  their  carriage  not  yet  having 
been  announced. 

"  Mrs.  Carleton  is  yet  an  invalid,  you  know,"  said  the  hostess, 
"  and  too  precious  to  be  exposed  to  danger." 

"  Madam,  permit  me  to  leave  you  a  moment  to  inquire  the  reason 
of  this  delay.     Indeed,  I  fear  you  will  add  to  your  cold." 

"  Nonsense,  my  dear  friends,"  laughed  the  lady  in  a  voice  as 
if  a  company  of  birds  were  trying  to  suppress  a  frolic  amid  the 
roses ;  "  you  really  are  in  a  conspiracy  to  make  an  invalid  of  me. 
The  doctors  would  find  but  a  rebellious  patient,  I  fear." 

"  It  makes  mo  shudder  to  think  of  it,"  said  Celio  in  an  almost 
inaudible  whisper,  quite  inaudible  to  all  but  the  lady  herself ;  who 
turned  her  eyes  upon  her  companion  with  a  sudden  gesture  that 
startled  him  as  if  he  saw  a  spirit. 

"  You  are  very  considerate,  Mr.  Celio,  and  to  show  you  that  I 
appreciate  your  care,  I  will  relieve  the  anxiety  of  you  all.  Here 
comes  the  carriage." 

"  Good  night,  my  dear  Mrs.  Carleton  !  give  our  love  to  Mr. 
Carleton.  Mr.  Celio,  take  good  care  of  your  precious  charge. 
Good  night!" 

The  driver  was  cautioned,  at  the  request  of  Mrs.  Carleton,  to  go 
very  slowly,  as  she  was  afraid  the  motion  might  set  her  coughing. 
Celio  took  his  seat  beside  her — the  doors  of  carriage  and  hous€ 
were  closed,  and  all  again  was  darkness  and  silence. 

For  some  moments  the  carriage  proceeded  slowly  over  the  ever 
rough  and  rugged  pavement  of  Broadway — the  Russ  Pavement  waa 
not  then  introduced  throughout  our  great  thoroughfare — while  no 
word  was  spoken  by  its  occupants.  The  lady,  late  so  gay  and 
lively,  seemed  suddenly  to  have  lost  some  talisman  that  had  sus- 
tained her  hitherto,  and  her  head  drooped  gracefully  like  a  withered 
flower.  Celio  felt  his  veins  rapidly  distend  and  pulsate  beneath  emo- 
tions indescribably  delightful  and  novel.  It  seemed  as  if  he  felt  a 
purifying  and  refining  essence  infused  into  his  soul,  wliich  elevated 
him  to  a  holy  rapture  and  expanded  his  faculties  almost  to  a  state  of 
beatitude.  From  this  delicious  dream  he  was  partially  awakened 
by  his  companion  saying  in  a  low  musical  voice  : 


AN    UNEXPECTED    CONVERSATION.  T 

"  How  strange  it  seems  to  call  you  Mr.  Celio !  It  is  as  if  I  were 
to  bestow  a  title  of  formality  upon  my  brother." 

Celio  knew  not  what  to  answer.  He  had  known  this  fair  being 
but  a  short  time,  and  had  taught  himself  to  bask  in  the  light  of  her 
queenly  beauty  and  her  radiant  mind,  as  in  the  starbeams  of  bright 
night.  His  pride — almost  his  delicacy — was  alarmed.  Is  she,  too, 
to  prove  like  all  the  rest?  he  asked  himself  with  a  gesture  of 
despair,  which  was  remarked  by  his  companion,  and  made  it  neces- 
sary to  say  something  in  reply  to  her  observation. 

"  My  name,  I  confess,  is  a  strange  one — and  it  is  right  that  to 
you  I  also  acknowledge  that  I  have  another.  Celio  is  but  my  chris- 
tian name,  the  fantastic  device  of  a  father  whose  poetic  soul,  choked 
under  an  adverse  destiny  and  trampled  out  of  him  by  the  wooden 
feet  of  common-place,  occasionally  struggled  to  give  out  a  spark  of 

its  native  electricity.      My  whole  name  is  Celio  N .     But  my 

father's  name  I  have  taken  a  solemn  pledge  shall  never  be  worn  by 
me,  unless  I  may  be  able  to  rescue  it  from  obscurity  and  place  it 
among  the  proudest  and  loftiest.  You  have  my  secret,  you  have  a 
right  to  it,  for  it  is  to  you  that  I  owe  an  introduction  into  that 
society  for  which  so  many  bitter,  weary  years  I  panted  in  vain,  and 
whose  approbation  alone  can  confer  upon  me  the  right  or  power  to 
burst  from  my  chrysalis  existence  into  light — if  I  have  that  within 
me  which  may  withstand  its  beams.  Oh,  madam,  you  know  not, 
you  can  never  know,  how  much  I  have  to  be  grateful  for.  You  are 
my  guardian  angel :  it  is  to  you  and  your  noble  husband  that  I  owe 
everything,  even  perhaps  my  life.  Despair  and  baffled  ambition 
are  fearful  enemies  to  contend  with,  when  one  knows  that  he  may 
rid  himself  of  them  by  a  struggle  and  a  gasp." 

"  Now  you  make  me  shudder,"  said  the  lady,  attempting  to  speak 
calmly,  but  with  a  voice  that  trembled  audibly. 

"  Forgive  me,  madam,  forgive  me.  But  your  goodness  has  made 
me  bold.  I  do  not  feel,  when  with  you,  that  chilling  restraint  that  * 
keeps  me  silent  so  often  in  the  presence  of  others.  What  magic ' 
spell  weave  you  over  me  ?  It  is  not  alone  your  wondrous  beauty  ; 
for  that  I  worship  as  I  do  the  perfect  and  the  beautiful  wherever 
they  have  found  material  expression,  but  which  is  to  me  a  thing  as 
sacred  as  the  stars  that  rain  their  balmy  influences  upon  me.  You 
do  not  start  at  this  language — you  are  not  offended.  I  knew  you 
ffould  not  be.  And  yet  I  do  not  know  how  I  have  dared  to  say  so 
much.  Forgive  me,  forgive  me — oh,  do  not  be  angry  with  me  I  To 
lose  you  were  worse  than  death." 

She  turned  suddenly  toward  him,  laid  her  hand  almost  sternly 
upon  his  arm,  yet  tempering  the  act  with  an  indescribable  gesture 
of  tenderness,  and  said  simply : 

"  Celio,  never  doubt  me.  I  am  your  sister  and  your  friend  while 
I  live — after,  your  good  angel.  You  know  not — may  you  never 
know — all  that  I  have  done  aud  will  do  for  you.  Your  path  is  a 
bright  one.  You  hare  genius,  beauty,  enthusiasm,  romance,  passion. 


8  CELIO. 

The  glorious  empire  over  the  minds  of  men, — and  women, — is  yours. 
Go  on  and  seize  the  glittering  prize  ;  and  when  you  find  that,  like 
the  butterfly  glories  you  chased  in  boyhood,  it  is  crushed  and  worth- 
less in  your  grasp,  bring  back  your  heart  to  me,  still  its  sister  and 
its  friend.  You  can  understand  this  language,  or  I  had  not  spoken. 
A  great  work  remains  for  you;  but  not  till  you  have  become 
strengthened  and  purified  by  many  triumphs  and  trials,  will  your 
spirit,  be  ready  to  engage  earnestly  in  what  it  has  to  do.  Now,  no 
more.  The  night  wanes,  and  my  generous  and  trusty  friend  and 
husband  will  forego  his  dreams  to  wonder  why  I  come  not  back. 
But  here  he  is  !" 

The  carriage  stopped,  the  door  opened,  and  down  came  Mr.  Carle- 
ton  in  his  dressing-gown  and  slippers,  and  with  an  immense  cloak  on 
his  arm  to  wrap  about  his  precious  wife  and  keep  her  from  the  cold. 
The  broad  free  light  of  affection,  undimmed  by  the  slightest  shade 
of  suspicion  or  watchfulness,  save  for  her  comfort  apd  safety,  beamed 
in  his  mild,  benevolent  eye,  and  benignity  made  him  beautiful.  He 
was  some  years  older  than  his  wife,  and  a  chronic  disease,  not  dan- 
gerous but  very  distressing,  kept  him  almost  entirely  out  of  society 
— where,  however,  he  kindly  and  delicately  urged  his  wife  to  go  as 
usual,  and  in  such  a  manner  that  she  felt  it  would  really  pain  him 
wholly  to  refuse. 

"  Good  night,  my*  kind  Celio  !"  said  Mr.  Carleton,  warmly 
pressing  the  young  man's  hand  as  he  handed  his  wife  up  the  steps. 
*'  I  must  not  stay  here  in  the  night-air  to  thank  you,  because  my 
asthma  forbids.  Come  to-morrow  and  see  us,  and  then  I  will 
manage  some  way  to  find  a  little  breath.  Good  night,  good  night ; 
God  bless  you !" 

Celio  was  alone.  Mr.  Carleton's  house  was  one  of  those  princely 
residences  which  overlook  the  Battery,  and  the  style,  luxury  and 
character  of  whose  owners  can  well  afford  to  dispense  with  the  ple- 
beian necessity  of  living  "  up-town"  in  order  to  be  considered 
fashionable.  The  Carleton's  would  have  been  confessed  to  be  high- 
bred and  fashionable  anywhere. 

Celio  was  alone.  The  night  had  somewhat  lightened,  and  stars 
were  here  and  there  gazing  through  the  veil  of  clouds  that  huns 
before  the  face  of  Heaven.  A  light  breeze,  full  of  the  freshness  and 
elasticity  of  the  unweary  sea,  stole  softly  over  the  Bay,  and  flew 
whispering  among  the  trees.  He  was  not  more  weary  than  that 
welcome  wind.  He  could  not  sleep,  he  well  knew,  with  such  a  whirl 
of  new  thoughts  and  sensations  as  enwrapt  liim  to-night — and  so  he 
walked  fortli  and  up  and  down  the  now-deserted  gravel-paths  beneath 
the  rustling  foliage. 

Sternly  and  boldly  there,  as  he  went  to  and  fro  communing  with 
himself,  asked  Celio  of  his  inmost  heart,  Do  I  love  her  ?  and  undis- 
mayed he  felt  his  blood  thrill  at  the  thought.  Carefully  he  weighed 
every  emotion,  every  sensation,  every  remembrance — for  Celio  was 
a  severe   metaphysician,  and  no  slightest  shade  of  feeling,  could 


THE    FIRE. 


escape  the  analysis  of  his  keen  mind.  Long  he  walked  and  ques- 
tioned with  himself,  but  at  length  he  looked  up  with  a  brightened 
face.  He  had  found  an  answer.  He  worshipped  this  bright 
creature  as  a  being  who  had  stooped  from  her  sphere  to  lift  him 
above  his  own — but  he  did  not  love  her.  He  was  guiltless  of  so 
monstrous  a  crime  against  God,  so  unpardonable  an  outrage  upon 
his  noble  and  great-hearted  friend.  No,  he  did  not  love  her  !  Poor 
youth  !  and  it  never  entered  thy  silly  head,  with  its  ambrosial  locks 
of  auburn,  curling  about  thy  temples  like  vineleaves  in  moonlight 
shadow  wreathed  round  a  statue — it  never  bethought  thee  to  ask  if 
she  loved  thee !     Good  night,  oh  inexperienced  Celio  ! 


CHAPTER  n. 

THE  FINE  ARTS  AND    AN    AMATEUR    FIREMAN. SOMEBODY  WHO  MA¥ 

TURN  OUT  A  HEROINE. 

Fire !  fire  !  Ding,  dong,  ding,  dong,  ding !  Five  times  the  gigantic 
hammer  strikes  the  tell-tale  bell  and  then  pauses  as  if  to  recover 
breath.  Ding,  dong,  .ding,  dong,  ding  !  It  is  in  the  fifth  district ; 
and  the  Firemen,  emerging  from  underground  eating-houses  that 
keep  open  all  night — from  cellars  and  trap-doors,  and  starting  out 
from  unexpected  corners,  carrying  their  heavy  fire -coats  on  their 
arms,  or  awkwardly  trying  to  run  into  them  as  they  hold  them  out  at 
arm's  length — gather  in  most  mysterious  haste  and  number  about 
the  engine-houses.  In  a  moment  the  noisy  cars  with  their  stubborn 
little  wheels  dash  furiously  by,  each  drawn  by  a  crowd  of  young 
Titans  in  red  flannel,  and  preceded  by  a  man  bearing  an  immense 
oyster-house  transparency  on  a  pole,  by  way  of  a  lantern. 

The  worn-out  night  was  grown  old  and  gray,  and  a  cold,  clammy 
dampness  tells  that  the  hour  of  its  death  is  near ;  but  with  the 
exception  of  the  Fireman,  and  perhaps  a  belated  bill-sticker  or  two, 
nobody  is  astir.  The  bell  has  been  jangling  for  some  time,  ming- 
ling its  discordant  sound  with  the  City's  pleasant  morning  dream. 
Undiscouraged  it  clamors  on,  sure  of  a  hearing.  And  at  last  the 
drowsy  City  rubs  its  e^^es,  opens  its  ears,  and  is  awake. 

Fire  !  fire  !  Ding,  dong,  ding,  dong,  ding !  The  watchmen  have 
actually  waked  up  too,  and  discovered  that  a  fire  is  toward — and  so 
they  try  to  compensate  by  present  bellowing  for  past  drowsiness. 
And  now,  one  by  one,  turn  out  the  sleepy  citizens — for  the  Fifth 
District  includes  the  great  mart  of  Trade  and  Commerce  and  money 


y 


16  CELIO 

and  "  operations"  in  general,  and  every  body  in  the  endurable  part 
of  town  of  course  has  a  counting-room,  store -house  or  bank  in  the 
Fifth  District,  and  must  go  and  see  about  this  noisy  fire  !  Had  it 
been  in  the  Fourth  District,  now,  or  even  in  the  Sixth,  they  would 
not  have  concerned  themselves  about  it.  No,  thank  Heaven  !  they 
do  not  permit  themselves  to  interfere  with  their  neighbours'  busi- 
ness— it  is  quite  as  much  as  they  can  do  to  take  care  of  their  own  ! 

The  conflagration  rages,  and  Broadway  begins  to  fill  with  appre- 
hensive people,  hurrying  to  see  if  they  are  safe.  From  the  top  of 
the  street  you  can  look  down  throng  the  calm  gray  morning  and  see 
the  thick,  pitchy  clouds  of  smoke  wreathed  round  the  outline  of  the 
tall  buildings,  more  and  more  frequently  fringed  with  a  broad  ribbon 
of  darting  flame.  Not  a  sound  but  the  incessant  clamor  of  the  bell 
reaches  us,  and  ever  and  anon  takes  place  some  unheard  crash,  send- 
ing a  shower  of  sparks  high  up  into  the  air,  or  gi\^ng  birth  to  a 
gigantic  column  of  white  flame  which  leaps  upward  and  loses  its 
head  amid  the  clouds.  As  we  go  on,  the  scene  expands  and  grows 
more  palpable.  It  is  as  if  one  could  walk  into  the  perspective  of  a 
pictured  conflagration  and  gradually  find  all  the  individual  elements 
of  the  general  effect  moving  and  transpiring  before  him,  until  he  at 
length  stood  in  the  midst. 

We  approach  still  nearer,  and  the  scene  grows  still  more  and  more 
intense.  We  hear  the  roaring  and  crackling  of  the  flames,  the 
crash  of  falling  walls,  and  the  explosions  of  casks  containing  spirits, 
or  oil,  turpentine,  and  other  such  matters.  Anon  the  shouts  of  the 
Fireman  are  heard  piercing  the  frightful  din,  and  the  incAatable 
clank  !  clank  !  of  the  brakes  keeps  time  to  the  horrid  tumult.  The 
street  is  now  a  dense  crowd  of  people,  who  press  close  upon  the  very 
heels  of  the  conflagration,  and  but  for  the  furious  cries  and  gestures 
of  the  Police,  would  be  inevitably  crushed  beneath  the  tumbling 
walls.  The  sidewalks,  the  Bowling-Green,  the  Battery,  are  com- 
pletely covered  with  every  imaginable  article  of  human  possession — 
beds,  tables,  chairs,  frying-pans,  magnificent  mirrors  broken  into 
millions  of  fragments,  costly  damask  hangings  torn  from  their  golden 
supporters  and  thrown  heedlessly  into  the  mud  that  the  streams  of 
water  from  the  engines  have  spread  on  every  side. — Here  are  splendid 
sofas  and  marble  pier-glasses — rich  chandeliers  whose  tinkling  drops 
look  like  immense  diamonds — piles  of  themost  expensive  silks  and  laces 
and  all  exotic  goods  hurried  from  the  threatened  counters  of  the 
importers  and  thrown  promiscuously  in  great  heaps  in  the  middle  of 
the  plashed  and  crowded  side-walk.  And  ever  the  excited  and 
madclened  crowd  pressed  higher  and  fiercer,  as  if  there  was  some 
fearful  and  irresistible  fascination  in  the  scene.  Drays,  carriages, 
carts,  every  species  of  vehicle,  struggled  and  toiled  amid  the  smoke 
and  flames  and  showers  of  fire  and  falling  timbers,  on  toward  some 
yet  unreached  repository  of  these  precious  wares — the  proprietor« 
urging  them  on  with  vehement  cries  and  gestures,  as  if  they  were 
pleading  and  contending  with  the  fires  of  another  world  for  the  souls 


AN  EXCITING  SCENE.  11 

of  their  wives  and  children.  Here  and  there  some  maniac - 
merchant,  too  late  to  save  his  darling  fabrics  within  whose  folds  his 
very  soul  lay  wrapped,  ran  wildly  about  screaming  in  agony,  "  for 
the  love  of  God  will  no  one  help  me !  A  hundred  dollars  for  a  man 
and  dray  a  single  half  hour  !  Five  hundred  dollars  !  .  A  thousand  ! 
Will  no  man  hear  me  ?"  and  then  the  madman  would  dart  away  again 
toward  the  thickest  of  the  conflagration  as  if  resolved  to  die  among 
his  gods. 

And  ever,  amid  the  horrid  tumult,  the  surge-like  roar  of  the  flames, 
the  din  of  the  thronged  streets,  the  hurtling  air  filled  with  hissing 
and  fiery  missiles,  the  screams  of  women,  the  shouts  of  men — came 
the  regular  heart-like  beating  of  the  engine-brakes,  obedient  to  the 
patient  and  gallant  spirits  that  impelled  them,  and  the  hoarse, 
sepulchral  voices  of  the  firemen  speaking  through  their  trumpets, 
calmly  as  old  seamen  uttering  their  mandates  amid  the  storm. — 
Upon  the  blazing  roofs  of  the  highest  buildings,  where  the  brain 
grew  dizzy  beholding  them — surrounded  on  every  side  by  sycophantic 
flames  that  came  to  lick  their  very  feet  in  dangerous  and  hypocriti- 
cal humility,  stood  the  daring  defenders  of  other  men's  wealth, 
working  away  with  ax  and  hammer  and  pry  and  bar — darting  in  and 
out  at  smoke -curtained  windows,  running  along  already  charred  and 
crackling  timbers,  or  clinging  to  some  forlorn  water-spout  five  stories 
above  the  ground,  that  they  might  strike  one  more  desirable  blow  at 
a  certain  point,  or  reach  one  more  package  to  rescue  it  from  destruc- 
tion. Never  did  Coeur-de -Lion  in  his  black  mail  with  that  fearful 
battle-ax,  do  such  desperate  and  dauntless  deeds  before  the  blazing 
Castle  of  Front-de-Boeuf.  Men  stood  in  awe  and  admiration 
watching  them  from  below  ;  and  ever  as  some  dull  explosion  was 
heard  from  underground,  or  a  brighter  sheet  of  flame  unfolded  itself 
from  the  s-moke  in  which  it  was  wrapped,  hiding  them  from  view 
went  a  shudder  through  the  heart  of  the  crowd,  and  every  mar 
stood  transfixed  till  these  brave  salamanders  again  were  visible, 
pursuing  calmly  their  toil  as  if  unconscious  of  danger. 

The  fiery  sea  swept  on,  and  one  after  another  those  lofty  temples 
of  Trade  and  Commerce  yielded  to  its  force  and  sunk  sullenly 
beneath  its  lurid  waves,  splashing  the  air  afar  with  meteor  show- 
ers of  burning  spray.  Wider  and  wider  grew  the  space  between 
crowd  and  fire,  which  no  man  could  pass  and  live ;  and  a  fierce 
wind,  hotter  than  a  thousand  siroccoes — the  very  breath  of  the 
conflagration — swept  through  the  narrow  streets  and  round  the 
corners,  bearing  blazing  missiles  from  roof  to  roof,  and  leading  the 
leaping  flames  from  casement  to  casement.  The  bright  waters  of 
the  Fountain  in  the  Bowling-Green  shrunk  hastily  away  as  the 
Spirit  of  the  fire  passed  by — the  ground  was  covered  far  and  wide 
with  falling  ashes  and  cinders,  and  the  Bay,  as  far  as  the  eye 
<jould  reach,  was  on  fire  with  blazing  fragments. 

In  this  scene  Celio  was  not  idle.  He  was  stiU  walking  up  and 
down  the  Battery,   thinking  of  the  strange  words  that  had  been 


12  CELIO. 

poured  into  his  heart,  and  dreaming  ten  thousand  dream  which 
vanished  like  exhalations,  one  by  one,  and  left  him  at  last  with  a 
feeling  of  inexpressible  loneliness  and  desolation, — when  he  was 
aroused  by  a  sudden  and  sharp  explosion,  whicli  shook  the  ground 
and  echoed  like  the  sound  of  an  earthquake  over  the  waters.  He 
looked  toward  the  City,  and  already  thin  spires  of  flame  began 
piercing  the  gray  air,  and  wreaths  of  smoke  momited  slowly  and 
unfolded  themselves  amid  the  vapors  of  morning. 

In  a  few  minutes  Celio  was  in  the  midst  of  the  scene  we  have 
described  ;  but  as  the  flames  led  on  toward  a  range  of  residences 
which  fronted  Broadway,  he  naturally  left  the  struggle  for  silks  and 
merchandizes,  to  go  where  more  precious  hazards  were  to  be  run — 
where  life  was  to  be  periled,  and  perhaps  the  helpless  and  the 
beautiful  rescued  from  destruction.  The  flames  had  already  caught 
in  the  rear  of  a  tall  building  occupied  as  a  boarding-house  by  many 
families  and  individuals,  who  were  enabling  some  dilapidated 
family  of  once' aristocratic  pretensions  to  realize  some  of  the  econo- 
mies of  Association  without  conferring  any  of  its  comforts.  The 
whole  house  was  already  in  wild  confusion,  swarming  with  human 
beings,  men,  women  and  children,  rumiing  wildly  about  and  shout- 
ing and  screaming  in  every  discordant  key.  Celio  entered  and 
began  restoring  some  sort  of  order  and  calmness  to  the  men,  and  of 
course  confidence  to  the  women.  For  a  woman's  hope  is  as  active 
as  her  despair,  and  the  instant  she  sees  the  least  chance  for  safety, 
or  the  slightest  appearance  of  self-possession  in  a  man,  she  takes  it 
for  granted  that  all  is  safe. 

"  My  good  friends,"  said  Celio,  in  a  light  gay  voice,  "  there  is 
some  trouble  here,  surely,  but  not  the  slightest  danger.  Wc  have 
ample  time  to  remove  every  thing  to  a  place  of  security. — The 
Battery  is  already  full  of  goods  and  furniture  of  every  description, 
and  a  strong  detachment  of  military  and  police  is  stationed  to  pro- 
tect them." 

In  a  short  moment  every  one  was  systematically  at  work,  under 
Cello's  direction,  and  every  thing  went  on  bravely.  The  women 
and  children  were  almost  as  strong  and  quite  as  active  as  the  men  ; 
and  the  crowd  not  liaving  yet  reached  the  front  of  the  street,  there 
was  no  difficulty  in  making  way  to  the  Battery  with  the  rescued 
goods.  Such  a  change  as  an  hour  had  wrought  in  the  aspect  of 
that  still  and  dreamy  place,  with  the  soft  sea-wind  rustling  among 
the  trees  !  The  whole  of  that  beautiful  green,  already  trodden  by 
millions  of  footsteps  and  scorched  by  showers  of  burning  ashos  and 
cinders,  was  one  vast  store -house  of  household  goods  and  utensils 
of  every  conceivablo  shape  and  use,  mixed  up  in  the  most  grotos(|ue 
confusion.  Here  were  a  group  of  emigrants,  including  the  wliole 
family,  from  the  blind,  epileptic  old  grandfather  to  tlie  little  baby 
in  its  candle-box  cradle  stuffed  in  with  rags  and  budgets,  pictu- 
resque in  their  squalor  and  dilapidation.  The  baby  laughed  and 
crowed  to  see  the  burning   missiles  of  the  conflagration,    like  fiery 


AN  AMATEUR  FIREMAN.  13 

butterflies,  swimming  between  it  and  the  blue  sky — the  mother 
made  the  coffee  and  dived  into  the  cavernous  recesses  of  the  inevi- 
table oaken  chest  for  every  thing — and  always  found  it :  while  the 
good-man  supported  the  trembling  old  grandfather  and  fed  him  his 
coffee  as  if  he  were — and  so  ho  was — the  baby  of  the  family. 

At  every  step  some  new  combination  of  such  elements  of  misery 
as  these  presented  itself. — The  cellars  in  which  so  many  of  the 
emigrants  live  had  all  driven  forth  their  inmates,  who  were  thus,  to 
the  number  of  many  hundreds,  exposed  upon  the  Battery  with  their 
little  worldly  wealth  in  the  chest,  and  with  nothing  but  the  sky  to 
shelter  them,  while  many  had  even  lost  their  poor  possessions,  and 
were  rushing  about  frantic  with  despair  and  hunger. 

With  calmness  and  prompt  decision  Celio  had  succeeded  in  clear- 
ing the  house  he  had  taJien  in  charge,  of  nearly  all  its  valuable 
furniture  and  property,  which  he  had  arranged  in  a  place  by  itself 
on  the  Battery  and  set  a  policeman  especially  to  watch  over.  The 
owners  were  standing  round  the  pile,  very  disconsolate  but  still 
stoutly  bearing  up  under  the  encouraging  words  and  smiles  of  Celio, 
when  the  landlady  of  the  abandoned  mansion  suddenly  exclaimed : 

"  Oh,  the  artist !  the  poor  old  artist  and  his  beautiful  daughter ! 
they  are  left  behind  !" 

"Where?  In  what  room?"  instantly  exclaimed  Celio,  turning  to 
the  building,  which  was  now  enveloped  'in  flames  from  the  rear, 
which  already  had  mounted  the  roof  and  began  curling  round  a 
sort  of  observatory,  by  which  it  was  surmounted. 

^'  In  the  back  attic  on  the  left  as  you  go  up,"  said  the  landlady. 
"  But  my  God  !  it  is  impossible  to  go  there  now  !  See,  the  roof  is 
all  on  fire,  and  the  flames  are  coming  out  of  the  front  windows." 

Celio  had  heard  nothing  of  this  speech  but  the  direction,  and  was 
already  in  the  hall  of  the  building,  now  filled  with  a  thick  and 
choking  cloud  of  smoke  that  rolled  down  the  stairway.  But  he 
disappeared  in  it  with  a  bound  and  held  his  breath  as  he  dashed 
upward.  As  he  mounted  the  highest  flight  of  steps  he  found 
that  here  was  still  breathing  place.  A  door  stood  open,  and 
approaching  it,  he  saw  a  sight  that  instantaneously  quelled  the  fierce 
excitement  of  action  that  raged  in  his  veins  and  made  him  for  an 
instant  forget  every  thing  but  the  scene  before  him. 

One  entire  side  of  the  little  low  chamber  was  occupied  by  a  half- 
finished  painting,  before  which  was  standing,  palette  in  hand,  an 
old  man  with  silver  hair  and  beard,  and  an  expression  of  inspiration 
playing  over  his  noble,  benevolent  face.  It  was  clear  that  he  knew 
nothing  of  the  fire,  and  thought  of  nothing  but  the  dreams  he  was 
striving  to  catch  and  transfix  upon  the  canvas.  By  his  side,  as  if 
an  angel  had  descended,  to  watch  his  labor,  knelt  a  slight,  brown- 
haired  girl,  looking  up  beseechingly  at  him,  and  saying  in  a  voice 
to  break  one's  heart  with  its  low  music  : 

"Father,  dearest  father,  will  you  not  save  your  daughter?  Think 
how  dear  life  is  to  me.' 


14  CELIO. 

"  What  is  it,  carina  ?"  slowly  changing  his  position  and  renewing 
his  fixed  gaze  upon  the  picture.  "  See  you  not,  my  daughter,  that 
I  am  very  busy  upon  this  noble  brow  of  my  Psyche, — not  so  fair 
nor  so  noble  as  thine,  oh  !  carina !" 

'^  Madonna,  save  me !"  meekly  replied  the  girl,  drooping  her 
head  upon  her  bosom  and  crossing  her  hands  in  patient  resignation. 

But  at  this  moment  Celio  sprang  into  the   room,  seized  the  asto- 
nished old  man  round  the  waist  and  carried  him  from  the  chamber, 
while  the  girl  instinctively  caught  the  hand   extended  to  her,   and 
'went  whithersoever  he  led. 

The  effort  was  a  noble  one  and  thus  far  successful— for  here 
there  was  still  air  that  could  be  breathed  with  life.  But  they  were 
not  yet  saved.  Down  the  stairway  a  single  glance  showed  Celio 
that  it  was  no  longer  possible  to  go — a  sea  of  flame  alone  was 
there.  But  his  daring  deed  had  been  watched  from  without ;  a  tall 
ladder,  just  reaching  the  window,  had  been  raised  by  the  firemen, 
and  a  begrimed  face,  glowing  with  exertion,  at  this  moment  appear- 
ed, while  its  owner  beckoned  furiously  to  Celio  to  carry  thither  his 
burden.  And  now  began  the  fearful  contest  between  the  artist  and 
the  man.  The  old  painter  struggled  and  raved  and  foamed  at  the 
mouth,  to  release  himself  from  the  grasp  of  Celio  and  rejoin  his 
unfinished  work. 

"  It  is  my  life,"  said  he  wildly ;  "I  will  not  leave  it :  I  cannot 
and  live.  Save  hcr^  but  let  me  go  and  die  where  my  soul  is."  And 
he  struck  his  deliverer  fiercely  in  the  face  and  screamed  in  the 
agony  of  his  efforts  to  escape.  Oh  then  was  the  slight,  pale  youth 
terrible  to  look  upon,  in  the  sublime  calmness  with  which  he  bore 
the  maniac  old  man  to  the  window  and  gave  him  to  the  stout  fire- 
man who  stood  to  receive  him.  After  them  came  Celio  and  the 
poor  girl,  who  had  fainted  and  lay  in  his  arms  as  lifeless  as  a 
statue  ;  and  all  came  in  safety  to  the  ground.  He  had  not  a  mo- 
ment to  think — but  instinctively  he  bore  his  beautiful  burden 
toward  the  house  of  Mr.  Carleton,  directing  the  staunch  fireman 
to  follow  with  the  old  man,  who  had  now  ceased  to  struggle — per- 
haps to  breathe. 

Mr.  Carleton's  house  had  been  early  in  the  morning  opened  to 
the  sufferers,  and  presented  a  scene  of  the  utmost  confusion — par- 
ticularly as  the  lattice  of  one  of  the  adjoining  buildings  had  caught 
fire  from  a  wandering  brand,  and  it  was  at  one  time  feared  that 
the  wliole  magnificent  block  would  be  consumed.  The  danger  had 
now  disappeared,  however,  and  both  Mr.  Carleton  and  his  wife 
were  busy  in  comforting  tlie  afilictcd  wlio  had  sought  slielter  with 
them.  To  the  liands  of  Mrs.  Carleton,  Celio  confided  liis  charge, 
with  a  brief  word  as  to  the  circumstances  under  whicli  lie  liad  found 
her  ;  and  exchanging  a  kind  glance  with  the  noble -hearted  woman 
and  a  hearty  pressure  of  the  hand  with  the  husband,  he  hurried 
away  to  see  what  more  was  to  be  done. 

But  the  fierceness  of  tlie  conflagration    had    passed.     At  length 


A  SOIREE  OF  THE  VICES.  15 

the  almost  superhuman  efforts  of  the  firemen  had  prevailed  against 
the  terrific  foe,  who  slowly  and  majestically  paused  upon  his 
devastating  march.  In  a  little  while  "  the  great  fire"  was  over — 
leaving  over  three  hundred  of  the  largest  and  costliest  warehouses 
and  residences  in  the  metropolis  but  a  wide,  wild  field  of  smoking 
and  blackened  desolation. 


CHAPTER  III. 


A  SOIREE  OF  THE  VICES,  WITH  HYPOCRISY  OMITTED. MR.   BUNCH  IS 

IN  DANGER  OF  PAYING  VERY  DEAR  FOR  HIS  WHISTLE. 

The  thieves  and  robbers  had  a  glorious  harvest  at  the  Great  Fire. 
Such  splendid  perquisites  of  their  vocation  had  not  been  realized  in 
many  years.  It  is  now  generally  known  that  the  metropolis  is  the 
abode  of  a  regularly  organized  community  of  thieves,  who  have  their 
laws  and  regulations,  much  better  observed  than  those  which  the 
honest  portion  of  mankind  prescribe  for  each  other — and  who  are 
regularly  classified  and  appointed,  each  according  to  individual 
merit,  age  and  experience,  greatness  of  achievement,  and  other 
circumstances.  This  classification  and  distribution  is  managed  w4th 
the  nicest  discrimination,  and  with  a  sagacity  and  sense  of  fitness 
that  would  do  honor  to  honest  people's  legislatures.  They  have 
their  pains  and  their  penalties,  too,  which  are  always  remorselessly 
enforced,  and  to  break  which  the  most  reckless  breaker  of  mere 
laws  does  not  dare  to  think  of.  It  is  only  in  the  last  extremity  that 
a  member  of  the  fraternity  can  open  his  lips  to  his  accomplices,  and 
even  then  not  in  a  manner  to  show  the  general  character  of  the 
Association,  nor  to  indicate  that  there  is  an  association  other  than 
a  mere  casual  one,  such  as  a  temporary  union  of  interests  might 
produce.  When  a  member  has  been  arrested,  and  there  remains 
no  longer  any  way  of  rescuing  him  from  a  long  confinement  or  per- 
haps death,  then,  if  he  is  sure  he  can  save  himself  by  disclosing  his 
immediate  accomplices,  he  is  mercifully  allowed  to  do  so — they,  in 
such  cases,  generally  taking  good  care  to  place  themselves  beyond 
reach  before  such  a  contingency  happens.  This  privilege,  latterly, 
has  fallen  very  much  into  disuse,  and  may  be  considered  in  fact  as 
obsolete.  Very  often  cunning  magistrates  and  district  attorneys 
deceived  the  poor  confiding  fellow,  and  after  getting  everything  out 
of  him  they  wanted,  suddenly  forgot  their  promises  of  mercy,  and 
s^it  the  prisoner  off  to  punishment,  exactly  as  if  he  had  made  no 


16  CELIO. 

confession  at  all.  This  was  hard — but  what  was  he  do  ?  To  whom 
could  a  felon  appeal  for  justice  against  a  magistrate  ?  The  idea 
was  too  absurd  !  So  the  fraternity  now  cultivate  a  grim  silence  in 
all  emergenceies ;  and  such  as  are  caught  undergo  martyrdom  for 
the  general  good.  Besides,  such  persons  acquire  great  influence 
among  the  tribe  after  they  return  from  their  unwilling  sojourn, 
among  the  inconvenient  conveniences  of  civilization.  A  man  who 
has  been  to  State  Prison  once  is  considered  as  a  prominent  and 
rising  member.  Twice  entitles  him  to  universal  honor  and  respect ; 
while  the  marks  of  irons  round  one's  limbs,  or  stripes  upon  one's 
back,  are  looked  upon  with  a  feeling  of  superstitious  awe  and 
rererence. 

Notwithstanding  its  isolation  from  the  every-day  world  of  so-called 
honest  people,  this  under-ground  universe  has  several  points  of 
contact  with  the  other,  where  they  approach  each  other  by  such 
gradually  diminishing  or  increasing  shades  as  to  make  it  almost 
impossible  to  say  where  one  ceases  and  the  other  begins.  One  of 
these  points  is  the  gambling-houses  of  various  ranks  and  grades,  which 
are  openly,  almost  publicly,  kept  in  various  parts  of  the  city,  to  the 
number  of  a  hundred  or  upward.  They  are  of  all  kinds,  from  the 
palatial  and  splendidly-furnished  establishment  in  Broadway  or 
Park  Place,  with  its  sumptuous  entertainments  and  costly  wines,  to 
the  low  three-cent  drinking  and  raflSing  den  in  the  Bowery,  and  the 
negro  dance-house,  brothel  and  groggery  combined,  in  the  Five 
Points.  In  these  places  the  various  classes  of  persons  who  pass 
during  the  day  for  honest  people,  such  as  leading  politicians,  (but 
there  is  doubt  as  to  how  they  pass,)  merchants,  financiers,  brokers, 
speculators,  bank-clerks,  &c.  &c.,  down  to  poor  desperadoes  who 
live  on  almost  nothing,  and  strive  to  eke  out  an  existence  by 
gambling  for  blown-up  poultry,  or  to  forget  it  by  drinking  poisoned 
whiskey,  become  gamblers  and  of  course  swindlers  at  night,  and 
thus  from  victims,  gradually  discipline  themselves  for  making  vic- 
tims in  their  turn.  And  so,  as  we  said,  it  is  difficult  to  draw  the 
line  of  distinction  very  closely  between  rogues  and  honest  men.  For 
how  shall  we  know  whether  the  merchant  swindled  to-night  out  of 
his  own  property  w^ill  not  to-morrow  swindle  his  creditors  out  of 
theirs  to  come  back  and  try  to  regain  what  he  has  lost  :  or  whether 
his  head  clerk,  robbed  at  some  gambling-house  of  money  which  he 
could  not  aiford  to  spend,  and  gradually  involved  deeper  and  deeper, 
sliould  not  at  length  resort  to  false  entries  in  the  ledger,  or  abstrac- 
tions from  the  cash-drawer  1  So,  one  by  one,  they  are  drawn  into 
the  vortex  and  disappear  forever  from  their  accustomed  places  in 
society — to  turn  up  again  in  the  police  reports  as  burglars,  forgers, 
counterfeiters,  thieves  and  pickpockets. 

Another  neutral  ground  is  the  brothel — a  fearful  passage  from 
innocence  to  crime,  fraught  with  horrors  at  every  step.  But  upon 
this  subject  we  do  not  enter  at  present.  Our  way  lies  in  a  different 
direction. 


A  SOIREE  OF  THE  VICES.  IT 

It  was  the  night  after  the  Great  Fire,  that  a  company  of  fifteen 
or  twenty  of  the  most  distinguished  thieves  and  robbers  in  the  City 
and  Community  to  which  they  belonged,  were  assembled  .in  one  of 
the  upper  rooms  of  a  small,  decent-looking  house  within  a  few  rods 
of  the  Tombs  :  and  which  to  a  stranger  presented  no  appearance  to 
indicate  its  real  character.  On  a  long  table  in  the  centre  of  the 
room  was  an  immense  pile  of  heterogenous  articles,  but  all  of  value. 
Conspicuous  among  them  were  costly  pieces  of  plate,  mostly  bruised 
and  mutilated.  Rich  articles  of  Jewelry,  Watches,  bars  of  Gold, 
&c.  &c.,  were  heaped  up  in  profusion,  and  in  a  mamier  which 
showed  that  they  had  been  gotten  together  in  some  way  quite  extras 
ordinary.  In  various  parts  of  the  room,  on  chairs,  and  strewed 
about  the  floor,  were  innumerable  packages  of  all  shapes  and  sizes. 
In  short,  this  was  a  hall  of  rendezvous  for  a  leading  group  of  plun- 
derers, who,  after  every  achievement,  previously  agreed  upon,  met 
here  to  divide  the  spoils  and  contrive  new  schemes  of  depredation. 
Many  were  the  occasions  similar  to  the  present  which  those  walls 
had  witnessed,  but  never  one  when  the  spoils  were  so  great  as  now. 
A  general  consciousness  of  this  important  fact  seemed  to  pervade 
the  persons  present,  and  every  eye  gleamed  with  unwonted 
satisfaction. 

Little  of  useless  ceremony  was  observed,  but  the  members  speedily 
drew  up  round  the  table,  while  a  tall,  impressive-looking  man  took 
the  large  arm-chair  at  the  head,  as  being  his  by  some  undisputed 
right.  Scarcely  a  word  was  said,  until  the  Chairman  had  made  a 
hasty  yet  shrewdly  equal  division  of  the  valuable  spoils  upon  the 
table,  and  given  to  each  his  portion,  which  was  received  without  a 
word.  At  length  all  but  one  had  been  apportioned,  and  the  Chair- 
man, pointing  to  the  remaining  spoil  upon  the  table,  said  in  a  cold, 
sneering  voice, 

''  Now  then,  most  respected  Mr.  Bunch,  the  rest  of  this  belongs 
to  you  and  me.  You  have  fulfilled  your  promises  thus  far,  and  have 
put  yourself  in  our  power  as  the  best  evidence  of  your  sincerity. 
Now  receive  your  pay  for  gulling  the  dear  people  and  the  good  City 
Fathers,  and  we  shall  henceforth  regard  you  ever  as  the  most  sense- 
less and  fit  man  for  constable.  You  shall  be  captain  of  the  watch. 
Don't  start  at  my  quoting  Shakspeare,  Mr.  Bunch.  I  used  to  do  a 
little  in  that  way  before  I  took  to  stealing  purses.  But  you  are 
dumb  to-night — you  seem  uneasy." 

Mr.  Bunch  was  a  bunchy  man  and  his  hair  was  bushy.  His  eye- 
brows were  also  on  the  chapparal  order,  and  a  pair  of  small  blinkey 
eyes  winked  incessantly  beneath  them.  He  fidgetted  in  his  chair, 
and  changed  the  position  of  his  tobacco — but  that  not  appearing  to 
answer,  he  took  a  fresh  quid — a  tremendous  one,  almost  one  entire 
paper,  of  ex-Mayor  (then  plain  Mr.)  Mickle's  Fine  Cut — and  repUed 
in  a  voice  which  he  intended  for  jocularity, 

*'  Why  you  see,  Mr.  Earnest,  that  I'm  afraid  I  shall  be  obliged 
to  disappoint  you.     I'm  sorry  to  do  it,  bekase  you  have  certainly 


18  CELK), 

treated  me  oncommon  civil  for  thieves ;  but  the  truth  must  out,  and 
the  sooner  the  better — you're  all  trapped  and  will  be  in  quod  in  less 
than  half-an-hour  from  this  time.  I  have  a  company  of  men  sta- 
tioned just  outside  who  are  to  wait  till  they  hear  this  whistle,  and" — 

"  Well,  my  profound  Mr.  Bunch,  go  on,  sir — I  find  your  story- 
very  interesting !  Well,  as  you  were  saying,  *  this  whistle'  " — and 
the  robber  held  a  small  whistle  before  the  eyes  of  the  frightened 
oflScial,  who  was  in  vain  fumbling  in  his  pockets  for  the  lost  talisman. 

"  Villain!"  exclaimed  the  officer,  starting  up  and  making  a  rush 
at  Earnest,  but  being  suddenly  pinioned  to  his  chair  by  a  tremen- 
dous arm  which  he  could  not  even  attempt  to  resist. 

"  Don't  restrain  the  gentleman,  I  beg,"  continued  Earnest  in  the 
same  cold,  sneering  tone,  at  the  same  time  pulling  a  "  revolver" 
from  his  bosom,  whose  six  fatal  mouths  grinned  horribly  at  the  poor 
ensnared  officer.  "  I  merely  took  this  bauble  from  your  neck  in 
sport,  as  we  came  in,  scarcely  thinking  how  potent  an  instrument  it 
might  become.  And  so  you  really  expected  to  surprise  us  finely,  in 
the  very  midst  of  our  little  financial  operations  !  That  was  a  very- 
pretty  plan,  was  it  not,  gentlemen?" 

*'  Oh,  glorious !"  replied  a  long,  lanky  fellow  with  a  coarse, 
cracked,  grating  voice,  which  had  procured  for  him  the  soubriquet 
of  the  Screech-Owl.  "  Come,  let's  hang  the  damned  stool-pigeon 
and  get  him  out  of  the  way." 

"  Or  strangle  him  under  the  hydrant,"  suggested  another,  who 
went  by  the  name  of  Dandy  Jake — having  been  in  his  poorer  days 
a  tailor.     "  That's  a  cool  and  gentlemanly  way  of  dying." 

"  A  damned  sight  too  good  for  a  Police  Officer,"  growled  a  gruff 
fellow  at  the  lower  end  of  the  table.  "  I  know  something  of  their 
desarts,  for  I  have  been  one  myself,  when  I  was  a  less  honest  man 
than  now.     I  say  hang  him,  according  to  rule  and  precedent." 

"  Yes,  hang  him !  hang  him  by  all  means !"  exclaimed  half-a- 
dozen,  jumping  up  and  crowding  round  the  poor  dismayed  officer,  aa 
if  to  carry  out  the  idea  without  loss  of  time. 

"  Gentlemen,  good  gentlemen,  I  beseech  you  to  hear  me,  I  was 
only  a  joking.  That  whistle  there  belongs  to  my  boy  at  home.  I 
got  it  for  him  to-day  bekase  he's  teething  and  they  come  through 
hard.     I  didn't  mean  nothing  by  it." 

''  We  will  -Kee  about  that,  Mr.  Bunch,  directly,"  said  Earnest. 
*^  Every  man  of  you  hold  fast  as  you  are  for  five  minutes." 

Stepping  into  the  street,  he  went  round  the  block  and  coming 
(juietly  up  to  a  group  of  men  idling  upon  the  corner,  he  said  in  a 
natural,  easy  manner,  "  So  here  you  are,  boys  ?  all  right.  Mr, 
Bunch,  whose  wife  has  been  taken  suddenly  ill,  requested  me  to 
step  round  and  say  to  you  that  tlie  expedition  (which  he  said  you 
would  know  all  about)  must  be  postponed  for  the  present.  He  said 
you  would  know  this  whistle.  So  here's  a  five  dolhir  bill  he  sent 
you  to  make  merry  over  your   disappointment   till   the  right  timx) 


A    DARING  VENTURE.  19 

One  of  the  men  took  the  money  and  spoke  a  few  words  apart  with 
tiie  rest,  when  he  approached  Earnest  and  whispered  in  his  ear, 
"  It  won't  do ;  one  of  the  men  knows  jou,  and  he  insists  that  Bunch 
has  had  foul  play." 

He  was  proceeding  to  lay  hold  of  Earnest's  collar,  when  the  bright 
barrel  of  the  revolver  gleamed  in  the  lamplight  plainly  in  the  sight 
of  all,  who  had  hovered  round  for  the  purpose  of  securing  their  prize. 

"  There's  money  for  all  of  you,"  said  Earnest.  "  Take  it  and  be 
off.  If  you  persist,  six  of  you  are  dead  men,  I  swear.  Choose,  and 
quickly." 

In  ten  seconds  he  was  alone.  He  slowly  put  up  his  pistol  and 
returned  thoughtfully  to  his  companions.  When  he  entered  the  room 
there  was  a  pale,  livid  shadow  resting  upon  his  face,  that  made  it 
fearful  to  look  upon.  He  resumed  his  seat  in  silence,  and  handed 
the  whistle  to  Bunch,  who  instinctively  clutched  it  and  blew  a  shrill 
€ry  upon  it.     Earnest  smiled  a  sickly,  deadly  smile. 

"  It  won't  do,  my  dear  Mr.  Bunch,"  said  he,  very  coldly  and 
slowly.  "  You  have  broken  our  law — the  very  fundamental  law  by 
which  we  preserve  our  life  and  liberty.  You  have  proved  yourself  a 
Jiar  and  a  traitor — not  to  say  a  fool,  in  trusting  yourself  upon  so 
perilous  an  errand  with  such  flimsy  precaution,  and  without  even 
seeing  that  your  magic  whistle  was  at  hand  before  you  made  your 
silly  boast.  By  the  laws  of  our  fraternity,  you  must  die  !  your 
hour  is  come !" 

"  Mr.  Earnest,  what  do  you  mean  ?"  stammered  the  now 
thoroughly-frightened  Bunch ;  ''  this  is  carrying  the  joke  too  far. 
Perhaps  you  have  forgot  that  I  am  an  officer.  I'll  have  you  punished 
for  such  language  to  a  minister  of  the  law." 

"  Swagger  doesn't  become  you,  Mr.  Bunch,  with  your  teeth  chat- 
tering in  that  unaccountable  manner.  It  is  because  you  are,  as  you 
say,  an  officer  and  a  stool-pigeon — a  sneaking  villain  who  has  tried  a 
deliberate  game  of  selling  those  whom  you  called  your  friends  and 
had  sworn  to  stand  by  at  all  times  and  on  all  occasions,  that  you 
must  die.  We  wage  open  war  against  Society,  without  seeking  to 
excuse  our  acts,  and  we  are  ready  to  suffer  the  consequences  when- 
ever Society  proves  stronger  or  more  adroit  than  we.  It  is  a  fair 
contest,  and  one  in  which  our  imperative  rule  is  to  guard  first  and 
foremost  against  treachery  among  ourselves.  You  are  a  double 
traitor — your  doom  is  death." 

A  sudden  sense  of  the  reality  of  his  situation  seemed  to  take  pos- 
session of  the  obtuse  Bunch.  The  deadly  palor  of  extreme  fear  fell 
over  his  face,  and  his  under  jaw  dropped  on  his  breast,  as  if  already 
the  fatal  cord  had  done  its  work.  Gradually  the  foam  of  terror 
gathered  upon  his  lips,  and  he  sat  stark  and  staring  at  the  cold, 
impassive  face  of  his  denouncer.  By  a  quiet  motion  of  his  hand, 
Earnest  had  signified  his  wish,  and  Ae  after  another  all  had  noise- 
lessly departed.  The  executioner  and  the  doomed  were  alone,  look- 
jug  steadily  into  each  other's  eyes.     It  seemed  that  the  officer, 


20  CELIO. 

although  he  had  not  turned  his  head  nor  changed  the  direction  of  his 
eyes,  had  become  aware  that  they  were  alone,  and  with  the  desperate 
resolution  that  the  extremity  of  fear  sometimes  imparts,  he  leaped 
suddenly  like  a  tiger  upon  Earnest,  seeking  to  strangle  him. in  his 
grasp  ere  he  had  time  to  avail  himself  of  his  pistol. 

By  an  instinctive  motion,  Earnest  also  grappled  his  adversary  by 
the  throat ;  and  thus  the  two  stood  holding  each  other  by  the  wind- 
pipe and  staring  with  protruding  eyes  ghastily  into  one  another's 
faces.  It  was  a  horrid  spectacle.  Several  times  Earnest  thought 
of  drawing  his  pistol,  but  he  dared  not  release  either  hand  from  his 
adversary's  throat,  lest  the  sudden  increase  of  strength  would  enable 
him  to  choke  him  quite  to  death  before  the  pistol  could  be  made 
serviceable  ;  and  thus  they  stood — motionless  as  two  demon  statues. 

This  fearful  struggle  could  not  last  long  ;  and  at  length  the  fingers 
of  the  officer  began  to  relax  their  hold  and  his  tongue  to  protrude 
farther  and  farther  from  his  mouth.  Then  his  body  bent  do^-n  and 
began  writhing  about  in  the  death  agony,  and  he  slipped  heavily  to 
the  floor.  The  robber  reeled  for  a  moment,  and  sinking  into  a  chair, 
strove  to  recover  possession  of  himself. 

''  My  foolish  carelessness,"  at  length  he  said,  resuming  with  an 
incredible  struggle  his  habitual  lightness  of  speech  and  demeanor, 
"  had  like  to  have  cost  me  my  life.  But  who  thought  the  fellow  was 
so  shrewd  1  Well — it  was  his  own  fault.  I  am  afraid  I  have  killed 
him — but  it  was  in  self-defence,  really  and  truly.  I  wonder,  (he 
added  with  a  sneer)  whether  the  Courts  would  accept  that  as  a  valid 
plea?" 

But  Mr.  Bunch  was  not  dead.  Slowly  he  opened  his  eyes,  and 
raising  himself  with  difficulty  upon  his  elbow,  looked  wildly  round 
the  room.  Catching  the  eye  of  Earnest,  who  had  drawn  the  pistol 
and  held  it  in  his  hand,  the  poor  wretch  cowered  and  groveled  on 
the  floor,  exclaiming  in  a  piteous  voice, 

''Oh,  for  God's  sake  don't  murder  me,  Capt.  Earnest!  for  the 
sake  of  my  poor  wife  and  child,  who  never  harmed  you — spare  me, 
spare  me!     I  will  be  your  slave  forever  and  ever." 

Earnest  thought  a  moment,  muttering  to  liimself,  "  I  will  try  this 
man.  If  he  be  faithful  he  can  save  mc,  perhaps,  in  time  of  peril, 
when  other  friends  cannot  approach  me.     I  will  try." 

"  Mr.  Bunch,"  said  he  to  the  prostrate  wretch  before  him,  "  I 
truly  had  intended  to  slay  you,  because  you  have  violated  the  most 
inexorable  rule  of  our  fraternity,  and  I  run  great  personal  risk  in 
suffering  you  to  escape.  But  go — you  are  free  !  and  now,  should 
ever  the  trial  come,  we  will  see  whether  you  romomlx'r  how  to  be 
grateful.     Away  ! — there  is  no  time  or  occasion  for  thanks." 

With  incredible  alacrity  the  sore-throated  Mr.  Bunch  got  himself 
upright  und  made  for  the  door — saying  to  himself  as  he  went  out — 
"  Well,  he's  a  noble  fellow,  ^  he  is  a  thief ;  and  I  will  stand  by 
him,  by !" 

Earnest   looked  out  after  him   till   he  was  out  of  sight ;  then, 


AN  OLD  LAMP  GOES  OUT.  21 

securing  his  plunder  and  carefully  locking  the  door,  he  proceeded 
toward  Broadway,  where  he  was  soon  lost  in  the  crowd  that  still 
went  to  and  fro. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

AN     OLD     LAMP     GOES    OUT. FARTHER    PROSPECTS    OF    A    HEROINE 

PERHAPS  TWO. THIS  CHAPTER  ALWAYS  SHOWS  THAT  THE  AUTHOR 

HAS  TAKEN  SEVERAL  LESSONS  IN   ITALIAN IF  NOT  MORE. 

The  old  painter  never  breathed  again.  His  last  sigh,  his  last 
struggle,  his  last  breath,  had  been  for  his  picture — the  great,  half- 
vacant,  yet  beautiful  picture  upon  which  his  whole  life  for  twenty 
long  years  had  been  expended,  and  which  the  Conflagration  had  so 
cruelly  finished.  There  is  something  sublime  and  awe-inspiring  in 
this  calm  and  patient  devotion  to  Art — this  utter  insensibility  to  all 
the  ordinary  excitements  which  go  to  make  up  life — this  withdrawing 
from  the  distorted  phantasms  of  the  Real  to  live  and  hold  communion 
with  the  fixed,  eternal,  unfading  beauty  of  the  Ideal.  The  old  man's 
death  had  been  timely — for  what  were  life  to  him  without  his  picture ! 
— that  dumb  yet  eloquent  witness  of  all  the  faint,  fiery  struggles  of 
genius  to  express  its  inspirations  in  material  forms — that  sacred 
drapery,  upon  which  the  great  dreams  of  the  Artist's  soul,  one  by 
one,  had  been  wrought  with  most  painful  yet  exquisite  care.  What 
to  him  were  life  without  this  ?  And  it  was  well  for  him  that  they 
both — Artist  and  unfinished  Work — were  permitted  to  perish 
together.  In  another  world  the  old  man  may  behold  the  full  and 
perfect  embodiment  of  that  immortal  beauty  which  visited  his  soul 
but  dimly  and  in  dreams,  and  the  shadowy  glances  of  which  haunted 
kim  continually  and  made  amends  for  the  hard  disasters  to  which  he 
had  been  exposed — to  obscurity,  to  poverty,  to  absolute  want  for 
himself  and  his  daughter  Nina. 

That  daughter — surely  he  loved  her !  Better,  far  better  than 
himself  or  aught  else  on  this  earth  but  his  picture — that  was  his 
god.  His  daughter,  his  fair,  sweet,  gentle  daughter,  was  every- 
thing to  the  old  man.  Her  presence  was  his  sunshine,  his  hope,  his 
happiness,  almost  his  very  life.  For  many  years — from  merest 
infancy — this  girl  had  been  the  old  man's  sole  living  companion, 
and  the  history  of  theii'  affection  was  a  beautiful  romance,  a  dream 
of  unselfish  love  made  practical. 

Upon  first  becoming  acquainted  with  her  loss,  she  appeared  to  be 


22  ^        CELIO 

also  about  to  die — not  as  if  in  sudden  pain  or  agony,  but  as  if  the 
spirit  of  life  were  fleeing  awaj  from  her.  The  beautiful  flush  upon 
her  cheek  faded  like  sunset  from  the  "water — the  deep  eyes  closed 
softly  as  an  infant's  sleeping — the  long,  curling,  silken  hair  seemed 
to  become,  relaxed  and  lose  its  elasticity — and  they  who  watched 
deemed  that  the  lovely  Italian  was  gone  to  rejoin  the  soul  of  her 
parent  where  all  things  pure  and  beautiful  must  meet  at  last. 
So  long  lay  she  in  this  trance  that  they  all  thought  her  dead ;  and 
even  Mrs.  Carleton  herself,  who  watched  over  a  charge  thus 
strangely  confided  to  her  by  Celio,  with  an  intense  watchfulness 
as  if  her  own  destiny  and  life  were  bound  up  in  that  of  the  beautiful 
stranger — even  she  was  about  to  abandon  hope,  when  a  slight  flutter 
of  the  poor  wounded  heart  made  the  little  bosom  arch  its  delicate 
outline  almost  imperceptibly.  Oh,  with  what  noble,  unselfish  care 
did  she  tend  the  crushed  flower  and  rear  its  drooping  head — watch- 
ing with  an  agony  of  suspense  every  sign  of  slow-returning  life ! 
For  an  instant,  when  she  thought  her  dead,  a  thrill  of  joy  whick 
could  not  be  restrained  had  fled  along  her  nerves  and  shaken  her 
heart  to  its  deepest  fountain-spring.  Who  was  this  lovely  creature, 
so  well  calculated  to  engage  the  divinest  aftection  of  such  a  heart  as 
Colio's  ?  Where  had  he  met  her  ?  How  long  known  her  ?  What 
was  she  to  him  ?  All  this  and  more  came  like  a  many-headed 
phantom  to  mock  for  a  moment  the  proud  woman  in  her  hour  of 
humiliation  and  womanly  despair — for  alread}^  her  tortured  heart 
had  taught  her  the  fatal  truth,  slie  loved  Celio  !  Why  then  should 
she  suppress  a  thrill  of  joy  at  the  thought  that  a  rival  no  more 
existed '?     She  were  no  true  woman  had  it  not  had  way  ! 

But  now  this  glorious  creature  lived — hope  revived,  and  the  true- 
hearted  Adelaide  saw  nothing  before  her  but  the  suficn-ing  sister,  for 
whom  all  her  sympathies,  her  cares,  were  at  once  most  lavishly 
expended.  And  as  she  bent  over  her  meek  and  lovely  patient,  try- 
ing by  most  endearing  words  and  caresses  to  recall  her  to  conscious- 
ness, she  insensibly  became  fascinated  by  the  exquisite  grace  and 
beauty  of  her  charge  ;  and  often  raised  her  own  magnificent  head 
and  arched  her  proud  neck  to  gaze  down  upon  the  infant-like 
loveliness  of  the  Italian  with  intense  and  passionate  admiration. 

Slowly  rolled  back  the  rosy  tide  of  life,  as  faithfully  beside  her 
watched  her  benefactor.  All  night  the  struggle  between  life  and 
death  went  on,  or  ceased  and  was  renewed  again  at  fitful  and  feverish 
intervals  ;  but  at  morning,  life  triumphed  and  death  fled  away  with 
the  dark  shadows  of  night.  The  girl  slept  softly  and  naturally,  her 
red  lips  sweetly  parting  as  the  sea  of  life  gently  ebbed  and  flowed 
over  the  coral  of  her  mouth. 

Ah  for  Celio  he  had  gone  home  after  his  fire-fighting,  conipletllj 
exhausted,  and  with  the  unquestioning  weariness  of  youth  had  slept 
in  utter  forgetfuln(>ss  throughout  the  night  and  late  into  the  follow- 
ing day ;  or  if,  at  intervals,  a  face  and  form  of  exquisite  loveliness 
flitted   by  on  the  wings  of  a  dim  dream,  the  pleasing  picture  rather 


RETURNING  CONSCIOUSNESS.  23 

deepened  than  disturbed  liis  slumbers.  When  he  awoke  he  was  still 
bewildered  with  the  strange  scenes  and  excitements  through  which 
he  had  so  recently  passed,  and  stretched  out  his  arms  as  if  still 
contending  with  the  conflagration.  His  first  tliought  was,  of  course, 
for  those  he  had  rescued  from  such  imminent  peril ;  and  it  was  not 
without  an  effort  that  he  could  even  remember  where  he  had  left 
them,  so  confused  and  vague  were  his  impressions  of  that  fearful 
scene  in  the  burning  house.  Then  he  remembered  the  mute  but 
inquiring  look  of  wonder  with  which  Mrs.  Carleton  had  received 
from  his  arms  the  insensible  girl.  He  therefore  proceeded  at  once 
to  the  house  of  his  friend,  which  was  with  some  difficulty  accessible, 
from  the  immense  masses  of  rubbish,  fallen  walls  and  timbers  with 
which  the  streets  were  encumbered,  and  which  for  several  months 
rendered  the  usual  thoroughfares  in  all  that  portion  of  the  City 
impassable. 

Mrs.  Carleton  had  given  orders  that  Celio  should  be  admitted  as 
soon  as  he  called,  and  he  was  at  once  shown  to  a  little  private 
sitting-room  up  stairs,  where  he  found  Mr.  Carleton,  who  had  been 
much  exhausted  by  the  excitement  and  exertion  of  the  previous  day, 
supported  by  cushions  and  looking  very  ill  indeed. 

"  Come  in,  my  dear  friend,"  said  he  to  Celio,  warmly  grasping 
his  hand.  "  Adelaide  will  soon  be  here.  She  has  been  all  night 
tending  your  poor  charge,  and  just  come  to  tell  me  that  the  fair 
patient  was  convalescent."  • 

"  And  the  old  man  V 

"  He  never  breathed,  but  was  dead  when  the  faithful  fireman 
brought  him.  Yet  the  poor  gentleman  had  certainly  received  no 
hurt.  The  girl  recovered  her  senses  briskly  enough,  but  upon  dis- 
covering that  the  old  gentleman  was  dead,  she  seemed  herself  as  if 
she  were  struck  lifeless." 

"  Come  and  see  the  loveliness  you  have  saved,"  said  the  soft 
voice  of  Mrs.  Carleton,  who  had  entered,  and  now  beckoned  Celio 
with  a  smile  to  follow  her. 

Passing  through  a  suite  of  magnificent  chambers,  among  whose 
gorgeous  draperies  one  could  almost  fancy  were  hidden  the  ghosts 
of  song  and  wit  and  laughter  that  had  so  often  flashed  and  sparkled 
through  them,  they  approached  a  quarter  of  the  mansion  where  the 
daylight  had  been  subdued  to  dawn.  Mrs.  Carleton  drew  aside  a 
violet-colored  curtain  and  stood  with  her  companion  beside  the  bed 
of  the  sleeping  girl. 

Oh,  she  was  inexpressibly  beautiful — that  sweet,  fair  flower, 
lying  so  freshly,  so  gracefully,  amid  the  virgin  whiteness  of  her 
snowy  couch.  So  perfect  was  the  outline  of  her  form,  that  it  dif- 
fi|sed  through  the  air  that  undulating  sense  of  the  beautiful  which 
is  imparted  by  exquisite  music  filling  it  with  harmonious  waves, 
while  the  rosy  glow  of  life  and  youth  made  the  heart  beat  with 
bewildering  and  delicious  emotion. 

Suddenly,  as  if  a  spirit  had  touched  her  forehead,  the  sleefier 


24  CELIO. 

awoke  and  looked  out  from  amid  the  curtaining  tendrils  of  her 
brown  hair.  At  first  she  gazed  upon  the  rosy  hangings  and 
soft  luxurious  furnishings  of  the  chamber  with  a  look  of  sweet  won- 
der— then  she  moved  slightly  her  graceful  head  upon  the  pillow, 
and  murmured  in  a  voice  that  startled  the  ear  like  the  sudden  call 
of  a  bird — 

"  Padre  mio!" 

"Poor  child!  Who  shall  be  father  to  thee  now?"  sighed  Celio, 
as  this  touching  sight  made  a  tear  glisten  in  his  eye. 

"  At  least  she  shall  not  want  a  mother  !"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Carle- 
ton,  with  sudden  energy.  "  But  come,  Celio,  speak  to  her — ^you 
who  speak  Italian  so  sweetly." 

The  girl  started  at  the  voices  and  gazed  inquiringly  around.  But 
when  she  met  the  soft,  earnest  look  of  Celio  she  suddenly  remem- 
bered all,  and  a  sparkling  flush  passed  over  her  face  as  she  extended 
her  arm  toward  him  and  cried  with  a  passionate  gesture — 

"Mio  Salvatore!" 

^'  No,  Signorina — ecco  la  sua  salvatora,"  said  Celio,  bowing 
toward  Mrs.  Carleton. 

She  looked  from  one  to  the  other,  with  her  great  wondering  eyes 
swimming  in  tears  that  would  not  fall,  and  said  in  her  own  beautiful 
tongue — 

"Oh,  how  happy  I  am  that  I  hear  once  more  my  language !  And 
this  sweet  place !  how  came  I  here  ?  what  angel  is  this  that  has  come 
to  minister  to  the  popr  artist's  daughter  1  And  you,  Signore,  what 
frightful  peril  you  encountered  for  us  unhappy  strangers  abandoned 
of  all  the  world  !  Oh,  that  my  life  could  be  of  some  value  to  you, 
that  I  could  hope  to  show  you  my  gratitude  !  But  my  father— oh, 
my  father !  ah,  I  see  in  your  eyes — he  is  dead  !  Can  I  not  see  his 
face  !" 

"  It  is  better  not,  carina,"  whispered  Mrs.  Carleton.  "  Forget 
these  sad  horrors,  and  let  Hope  make  pictures  in  your  sweet  visions. 
I  will  come  to  you  again  directly ;"  and  she  led  Celio  from  the 
enchanted  chamber. 

They  returned  to  the  little  sitting-room,  where  Celio  related  the 
incident  of  the  old  artist  and  his  daughter,  in  a  few  modest  words, 
and  ended  by  expressing  his  anxiety  as  to  what  would  become  of  the 
beautiful  creature  they  had  saved. 

"  My  dear  friend,"  said  at  once  Mr.  Carleton,  ""  you  do  us  poor 
justice  if  you  believe  we  have  not  already  settled  that  matter.  She 
is  to  remain  with  us — to  be  one  of  us — to  be  our  daughter — that  is, 
if  you  can  safely  trust  to  our  keeping  so  precious  a  charge." 

"  Nay,  now  you  are  cruel,"  said  Celio  witli  a  smile.  "  You  have 
relieved  me  of  so  heavy  a  responsibility,  and  one  that  I  was  so 
little  able  to  meet,  that  I  know  not  how  to  express  my  gratitude. 
But  now  I  must  leave  you.  I  have  been  already  too  long  absent 
from  my  pressing  daily  duties,  and  you  will  not  be  much  troubled 
with  my  visits  for  some  days  to  come — at  least  until  I  recover  the 
time  I  have  lost." 


A  REVELATION.  26 

"  But  why  do  you  not  leave  such  bond-service  as  that  horrid 
tyrant,  the  Daily  Press,  demands  of  its  votaries  ?  You  are  wasting 
your  youth  and  highest  energies  in  the  daily  manufacture  of  that 
which,  from  its  very  nature,  dies  almost  as  fast  as  it  is  created. " 

"  I  am  thinking  of  following  your  advice,"  said  Celio,  in  a  some- 
what constrained  manner.  "  But  now,  my  best  friends,  I  must 
indeed  leave  you.     Farewell  "' 

But  the  truth  of  the  matter  was,  that  he  could  not  take  the  advice 
of  his  unthinking  friend.  After  a  life  of  the  severest  toil,  rendered 
still  more  painful  and  exhausting  by  the  indomitable  perseverance 
'with  which  he  had  pursued  his  studies,  without  assistance  or  even 
time,  save  that  he  stole  from  hours  when  he  should  have  slept ; — 
he  was  still  poor,  very  poor,  and  had  struggled  hard  and  long  ere  he 
had  been  able  to  procure  a  permanent  opportunity  to  labor  at  his 
vocation.  His  quick  fancy,  extensive  information,  and  great  versa- 
tility, had  now,  however,  acquired  for  him,  young  as  he  was,  an 
enviable  reputation  as  a  writer,  and  there  were  few  of  his  class  who 
stood  so  high  as  he.  But  he  was  yet  only  a  subordinate,  and  one 
among  a  host  of  writers,  some  good,  some  indifferent,  some  intoler- 
ably bad,  who  write  as  they  are  forced  to  live,  from  hand  to  mouth, 
and  never  can  pause  in  the  petty  round  driven  by  Necessity,  to  see 
if  they  have  powers  of  a  higher  order,  or  even  to  produce  a  finished 
and  deliberate  effort  of  those  they  are  acknowledged  to  possess.  He* 
was  exactly  in  that  position  where  a  very  slight  incident — the  small- 
est increase  of  momentum — might  turn  the  whole  current  of  destiny 
and  bring  him  at  once  from  dependent  obscurity  to  fame  and  fortune. 
Had  he  power  to  lift  himself  above  the  dead  level  where  he  and  so 
many  were  fiercely  struggling  for  a  bare  and  precarious  subsistence  1 
or  should  he  ever  be  able  to  gain  time  fronf  his  daily  and  nightly 
labors  to  make  a  well-considered  effort  ?  These  were  the  questions 
he  constantly  asked  himself — and  as  often  looked  vaguely  into  the 
hopeful  Future  for  a  reply. 

One  thing  he  soon  discovered — that  a  social  position  was  the  great 
lever  by  which  alone  he  could  raise  himself  to  a  position  whenee  he 
could  fairly  be  heard  by  the  public  by  whom  he  was  to  be  judged  ; 
and  to  accomplish  this  he  bent  all  his  powers.  In  the  intervals  of  his 
severe  labors  he  perfected  himself  in  French  and  Italian — Music  he 
had  studied  and  knew  theoretically  when  a  child,  but  until  now  had 
never  been  in  a  situation  to  command  even  an  instrument  upon  which 
to  practise.  Now  he  spent  two  or  three  hours  every  day  at  a  music 
store  practising  the  Piano  and  voice,  and  in  a  few  months  made 
most  astionishing  progress — for  he  knew  all  beforehand,  not  merely 
generally  but  critically ;  and  had  only  to  teach  his  fingers  and  voice 
to  express  the  true  musical  thought  that  his  mind  conceived.  To 
such  organizations  as  his,  learning  is  almost  an  electric  process. 
They  seem  to  be  in  possession  of  a  key  that  unlocks  at  once  the 
mysteries  of  a  science,  an  art,  or  a  languao-e,  and  admits  them  to  its 
very  arcana,  where  are  gathered  its  fundamental  elements.     Then 


CELIO. 


analysis  and  an  imitative  faculty  so  rapid  as  to  seem  intuitive  and 
creative,  enables  them  to  construct  with  confidence  and  at  once  those 
infallible  results  "which  the  ordinary  student  arrives  at  only  by  the 
most  painful,  discouraging  and  protracted  labor — leaving  many  less 
persevering  than  he  struggling  and  despairing  by  the  wayside. 
Whatever  Celio  learned  he  studied  from  within  outwardly.  He 
began  at  the  heart,  found  out  the  laws  of  its  construction  and  action, 
and  then  went  straight  on  to  their  ultimates.  It  was  not  necessary 
for  him  to  burden  his  memory  with  mere  details.  He  learned  ideas, 
and  they  did  all  the  rest.  So,  at  twenty-two,  Celio  was  assistant- 
editor  of  a  leading  Journal  in  the  Metropolis,  an  accomplished 
scholar,  a  profoundly-read  man  of  the  world,  a  poet,  a  w^it,  a 
thorough  and  appreciative  critic  in  the  Fine  Arts,  and  especially  in 
Music  and  the  Drama,  where  his  word  was  already  considered  of 
very  high  authority ;  was  recognized  and  sought  after  in  several 
circles  of  the  best  society  in  the  City — and  as  poor  as  a  pauper. 
Ay,  poorer — for  he  had  done  that  unw^isest,  unjustest  of  things,  run 
in  debt  for  luxuries  w^hich  he  could  have  done  without,  but  which 
were  requisite  to  maintain  the  position  he  had  chosen  for  himself. 
Yes,  he  was  that  worst  of  slaves,  a  delinquent  debtor ;  and  his  life 
was  a  constant  and  humiliating  struggle  to  keep  on  some  kind  of 
terms  with  his  numerous  old  creditors  and  to  discover  the  means  of 
making  new  ones.  He  was  not  dishonest  nor  dishonorable ;  he  was 
as  proud,  high-minded  and  independent  in  his  feelings  as  any  man 
that  ever  breathed ;  but  the  pride  of  circumstance  and  position  and 
association  had  got  firm  hold  of  his  inflammable  nature,  and  to  it  he 
sacrificed  everything.  He  was  strictly,  painfully  economical ;  and 
although  endowed  with  a  powerful  and  active  sense  of  physical  luxu- 
ry, yet  he  cheerfully  dfnied  it  all  gratification,  that  he  might  indulge 
his  intellectual  tastes  and  maintain  a  becoming  rank  in  that  wealthy 
and  thoughtless  class  where  extravagance  is  mere  pastime  and 
economy  is  voted  the  only  unpardonable  vulgarity.  .  Thus,  although 
Celio  had  escaped  all  brutalizing  vices  and  disgusting  habits — was 
careful  and  self-respecting  in  his  associations — yet  he  was  constantly 
in  debt  and  in  arrear  of  his  slender  income.  He  was  thus  subjected 
to  humiliations  and  embarrassments  at  which  his  proud  and  sensitive 
nature  chafed  sometimes  almost  to  madness.  Yet  he  had  not  tl)e 
moral  courage  to  forego  his  expensive  society  and  apply  himself 
diligently  to  the  economies  of  life,  and  let  his  position  and  fame 
work  out  their  own  fulfilment.  These  petty  and  ceaseless  struggles 
tended  powerfully  to  increase  his  misantlnopy  and  sour  his  temper. 
Yet  he  was  of  too  elastic  and  versatile  an  organization  to  bend  long 
under  any  one  depressing  circumstance — and  his  life  was  a  continuea 
succession  of  exaltation  and  depression,  exhaustion  and  (^fterves- 
cence,  joy  and  despair.  The  mediocre,  the  common-place,  weiie 
seldom  his.  In  his  bitter  moments  he  felt  that  within  himself  lived 
great  energies  and  lofty  duties,  and  that  the  new  Eia  which  waa 
preparing  to  burst  upon   Humanity,  (for  so  he  deemed,)  had  much 


A   NOCTURNAL   VISIT.  2T 

fbr  dim  to  do.  At  such  times  he  formed  stringent  resolutions  to  rid 
himself  from  Debt — that  horrid  Incubus — and  thus  prepare  for  what 
he  knew  must  come.  But  again  his  impulsive  humor  changed — 
ambition,  pride,  vanity,  led  him  back  to  his  old  paths.  Society 
opened  its  arms  to  receive  him.  Pleasure  beckoned  him,  Woman 
emiled  her  sweetest  blandishments  upon  liim-^and  he  resisted  no 
nwre. 


CHAPTER  v.* 

TO    BE    SKIPPED    BY  ALL    WHOSE    MORALITY    CONSISTS    IN    SHUTTING 
THEIR    EYES    TO    THE    EXISTENCE    OF   VICE. 

When  Captain  Earnest  reached  Broadway,  after  his  encounter 
with  the  policeman  Bunch,  he  stood  a  moment  on  the  corner  by  the 
Carlton,  as  if  irresolute  which  way  to  proceed.  At  length,  however, 
he  seemed  to  remember  some  appointment,  and  after  looking  at  his 
watch,  walked  briskly  across  Broadway  and  down  the  cross-street 
toward  the  North  River.  He  shortly  rang  at  a  tall,  handsome 
house,  and  was  admitted  by  a  very  good-looking  yellow  girl,  wk) 
seemed  to  know  him  well,  saying,  as  she  respectfully  held  the  doo«r 
for  him  to  enter  : —  m 

"'At  you,  Cap'n?" 

"  Yes,  Cleopatra,  and  nobody  else.  Who  have  you  got  here  to- 
night ?" 

"Oh,  a  few  of  the  gals  and  boys  as  you  knows.  We  is  some 
pumpkins,  Capt.  Earnest?" 

"Yes,  I  believe  you,  Clappy.     Is  your  mistress  at  homel" 

"Yes — but  she's  engaged  for  a  while.     She'll  be  downdireckly." 

Earnest  smiled  knowingly  in  reply  to  the  girl's  ivory  grin,  and 
passing  on  to  the  door  of  the  back  parlor,  entered.  The  rooms 
were  lofty  and  elegant,  and  the  folding-doors  were  withdrawn  to 
their  full  capacity,  making  the  parlors  appear  like  one  immense 
saloon.  The  furniture  was  what  a  green-horn  would  call  gorgeous 
and  a  man  of  taste  gaudy.  The  carpet  was  a  luxurious  Wilton, 
flaunting  in  scarlet,  blue  and  orange,  on  a  white  ground ;  and  the 
sofas,  lounges,  divans,  chairs,  ottomans,  &c.  were  of  bright  crimson 

♦  A  few  of  the  deiails  from  which  this  chapter  was  written  are  taken  from  a  pub- 
lication by  the  author  of  the  present  novel,  entitled  "  New  York  by  Gas-Lighi." 
They  were  originally  intended  to  be  embodied  in  their  present  form,  and  are  thero* 
fore  retained  asbeing  neeeasary  to  the  proper  movement  of  the  ^ory. 


28  CELIO. 

velvet  and  gilt.  A  flashy  glass  chandelier,  brilliantly  lighted,  hung 
in  the  centre  of  each  room,  and  the  mantels  were  well  supplied  with 
branches  and  lights.  The  effect  was  really  for  a  moment  overpow- 
ering ;  and  to  one  unaccustomed  to  luxurious  apartments  and  not 
much  given  to  looking  beneath  the  surface  of  things,  appeared  quite 
like  a  scene  of  enchantment.  Yet  after  all,  it  was  cold  and  hollow 
and  dreary,  and  a  man  with  a  heart  would  have  felt  a  darkening 
chill  even  from  the  light  and  laughter  that  filled  the  apartments. 
At  the  moment  Earnest  entered  a  scene  was  enacting  that  well 
deserves  a  particular  description.  In  the  space  between  the  folding- 
doors  stood  an  immense,  high-backed  throne-like  easy  chair,  fantas- 
tically decorated  with  a  flowered  lace-work  tidy^  and  surmounted  by 
a  sort  of  tawdry  canopy  of  blue  silk,  heavily  fringed  with  faded  gold 
lace  or  gimp  work.  In  this  chair  sat  a  handsome-faced,  jolly-looking 
young  man,  with  bright  blue  eyes  and  cui'ly  hair.  In  one  hand  he 
held  a  bottle  of  champagne  freshly  popped,  and  in  the  other  a 
chrystal  goblet — while  half-a-dozen  rouged  and  over-dressed  women 
were  clustered  round  him,  all  laughing  boisterously  and  holding  up 
their  goblets  at  arm's  length,  as  if  eager  for  the  sparkling  draught. 

"  Fair  and  easy,  Ganymedes  all — if  you  please,"  exclaimed  the 
gentleman,  with  a  gay  laugh.  "  You  have  caught  me,  sure  enough, 
and  I  cheerfully  pay  the  penalty  of  getting  into  the  seat  of  honor. 
But  first  of  all,  I  shall  help  myself — as,  after  the  bottle  has  gone 
round,  my  opinion  is  that  there  would  be  very  little  left  for  your 
humble  servant.  So  here  goes  !  Ladies,  I  have  the  honor  to  drink 
your  very  good  healths."  And  suiting  the  action  to  the  word  and 
the  word  to  the  action,  down  gleamed  the  foaming  current. 

This  bit  of  smartness  was  greeted  with  a  yell  of  delight  by  the 
women,  who  found  tlftt  they  had  a  fellow  to  deal  with  who  had 
some  spunk  in  him,  and  promised  themselves  a  glorious  time  of  it. 
Having  quaffed  his  beaker,  the  gentleman  filled  for  his  fair  friends, 
but  found  that  the  bottle  was  exhausted  while  half  the  goblets  were 
still  untouched  by  the  electric  fluid. 

"  Here,  my  yellow  rose  of  Avondale  !"  he  shouted.  "  Bring  us 
another  bottle,  and  be  quick  about  it.     These  ladies  are  fainting." 

Another  bottle  of  the  "  parlous  stuff"  was  instantly  forthcoming, 
and  as  he  turned  to  receive  it,  the  stranger's  eyes  fell  upon  Captain 
Earnest,  who  was  standing  quietly  near  the  door,  observing  the 
proceedings  with  a  sardonic  smile. 

"  Ah,  here  you  are  at  last !  Devil  take  the  champagne  !  Here, 
girls  !  help  yourselves  ;  it's  a  process,  I  guess,  tliat  you  are  toler- 
ably familiar  with — and  be  hanged  to  you !  Old  fellow,  I'm  glad 
to  see  you.  But  where  have  you  kept  yourself  all  this  wliile  ?  I 
began  to  think  you  were  not  coming." 

"  I  always  keep  my  appointments,  Mr.  Merivale,"  replied  Ear- 
nest, cordially  sliaking  the  liand  which  the  stranger  extended  toward 
him.  "  Although,  to  confess  the  trutli,  I  had  very  nearly  forgotten 
it.     But  now  that  I  am  here,  we'll  make  a  night  of  it.     Come  girlsy 


A     PARTY.       I  29 

stir  up  Fandango  and  see  if  he  cannot  give  us  one  of  his  superb 
suppers.  Nothing  common  and  vulgar,  but  something  that  will 
rejoice  the  soul  as  well  as  the  stomach,  and  magnify  the  viscera 
while  it  delights  the  gastric  juices.  Tell  him  that  the  '  amount  of 
his  reward  shall  be  exactly  in  proportion  to  the  intensity  of  his 
flavors.  Come,  Rosalina,  give  us  a  kiss  like  a  good  girl,  and  then 
run  and  see  about  tJie  supper." 

Rosalina,  "  like  a  good  girl,"  did  exactly  as  she  was  bid,  without 
any  hesitation,  and  disappeared  kitchenward. 

"  Why,  Captain,  you  seem  to  be  rather  at  home  here,"  remarked 
the  occupant  of  the  chair,  somewhat  surprised ;  "  I  thought  I  was 
making  myself  tolerably  free  on  a  short  acquaintance  ;  but  I  knock 
under." 

"Yes,"  replied  Earnest,  with  his  eternal  smile;  '' I  am  pretty 
generally  at  home  everywhere.     I  find  it  the  best  way." 

The  ladies  seemed  to  have  lost  a  portion  of  their  gaiety  upon  dis- 
covering that  Earnest  was  in  the  room,  although  they  still  stood 
gathered  round  Merivale,  talking  and  laughing  all  at  once ;  but  in 
a  lower  tone  than  before.  An  indefinable  restraint  appeared  to  hare 
fallen  upon  them,  and  you  could  almost  see  them  subsiding. 

But  Earnest  either  did  not  notice  this  chilling  efi'ect  of  his 
presence,  or  was  determined  to  do  away  with  it.  He  therefore 
advanced  gaily  into  the  middle  of  the  group  surrounding  Merivale, 
and  said  in  the  easiest  and  cheerfullest  manner  in  the  world — 

"  Come,  come,  girls,  you  are  monopolising  my  young  friend  alto- 
gether. I  shall  grow  positively  jealous  in  a  few  minutes.  Will  no- 
body give  me  a  kiss  ?" 

There  was  an  instant's  silence,  and  then  a  niovement  of  hesitation 
among  the  girls.  Earnest's  face  began  to  change  its  expression  and 
his  eyes  grew  brighter  as  they  darted  keen  glances  from  one  to  the 
other.  At  length,  the  youngest  and  prettiest  of  the  group — a  fair- 
haired,  blue-eyed  girl  of  not  more  than  fifteen  or  sixteen  summers, 
advanced  to  the  Captain,  and  with  a  gesture  of  infantile  grace  held 
up  her  face,  saying, 

"  If  you  will  pardon  my  boldness.  Captain,  I'll  kiss  you — or  you 
may  kiss  me  ;  and  that,  you  know,  is  the  same  thing." 

"  Not  quite,  Kitty,  not  quite,"  said  Earnest,  taking  both  her 
hands  and  looking  kindly,  almost  tenderly,  into  her  beautiful  face. 
"But  you  shall  neither  kiss  me,  nor  I  you.     I  love  you  too  much." 

"Captain  Earnest  in  love!"  exclaimed  all  the  girls  in  a  breath 
— "  come,  now,  that's  too  good  !" 

"  Yes,"  continued  a  tall,  dark-eyed  beauty,  who,  although  exqui- 
sitely preserved,  was  evidently  at  that  equivocal  age  between  thirty 
and  fifty  denominated  by  ladies  "the  prime  of  life," — "yes,  and 
with  that  little  wax  baby  of  a  thing,  when  we  have  all  been  besieg- 
ing his  heart  in  vain  for — for — I  don't  know  how  long." 

"  Don't  tell,  if  you  do,  Mag,"  said  Earnest  with  a  good-natured 
smile.     "  I  woQ^t,  and  you  hadn't  better.     But  there,  take  that,  for 


8D 


OELIO. 


auld  lang  sjrie  ;  and  now  let  us  have  no  quarreling.  I  have  had 
some  very  disagreeable  work  to  do  to-night,  and  I  am  determined  to 
have  a  jolly  time  of  it  with  you  and  my  friend  Merivale.  It  would 
be  better  if  we  had  half-a-dozen  more  gentlemen  to  supper — but 
perhaps  they'll  be  dropping  in.  There's  the  door-bell,  this  moment." 
Let  us  see  who  has  come.  Get  up,  Mr.  Merivale,  move  your  throne 
out  of  the  way,  and  let  us  shut  the  folding-doors.  Now,  Mag,  go 
and  receive  the  new  comers,  and  if  they  are  of  the  right  set,  bring 
them  in  here,  and  we'll  invite  them  to  supper.  Hurry,  hurry — there 
they  are." 

Mag  left  the  room,  and  in  a  few  minutes  the  folding-doors  were 
opened  from  the  other  side,  and  she  came  forward,  followed  by  four 
notable-looking  men,  whom  Earnest  introduced  in  turn  to  Merivale. 
With  the  ladies  they  seemed  already  well  acquainted. 

The  first  of  these  new  comers  wore  an  exaggerated  Bernous  or 
loose  frock,  very  much  turned  up  at  the  sleeves,  which  were  as  big 
as  bags,  and  profusely  ornamented  about  the  collar  with  silk  braid, 
arranged  in  fantastic  shapes  of  stars  and  flowers.  His  pantaloons, 
excessively  tight  in  the  knees,  and  the  waistband  girting  close  around 
the  abdomen  in  the  vicinity  of  the  navel,  expanded  into  a  sort  of 
extempore  gaiter  at  the  bottom,  from  beyond  the  edge  of  which  the 
toe  of  an  exquisite  French  boot  protruded  about  an  inch  and  a  half. 
His  vest  was  a  thin  cashmere  plaid,  of  dark  bars  on  a  scarlet  ground, 
looking  like  the  inside  of  a  burning  prison  seen  through  the  grates. 
His  hat,  which  he  had  not  removed  from  the  south-eastern  corner  of 
his  head,  had  a  monstrous  brim,  and  tapered  rapidly  almost  to  a 
point.  Two-thirds  of  his  large,  vulgar-made  hands  were  crammed 
into  a  pair  of  ladies'  yellow  kid  gloves,  the  protruding  thumb-joint, 
that  inevitable  badge  of  vulgar  blood,  having  broken  through  its 
delicate  covering  to  tell  its  unmistakeable  story.  Under  his  left 
arm  he  carried  a  little  cane,  about  half  long  enough  for  walking  with, 
and  his  open- worked  and  gorgeously  embroidered  shirt-bosom  was 
starred  with  diamonds  and  over-laid  with  a  massive  chain,  wreathed 
into  fantastic  contortions  held  in  place  by  the  diamond  pins,  and 
confined  with  a  large  golden  anchor-hook  to  a  button-hole  of  the 
waistcoat. 

But  the  most  remarkable  portion  of  this  distingue  costume  was  the 
scarf  that  encircled  the  neck  and  blossomed  into  two  enormous  and 
ferocious-looking  bows,  kept  from  quarreling  by  the  peaceful  and 
smooth-shaven  chin.  The  colors  of  this  immortal  neckcloth  were, 
like  those  of  the  vest,  red  and  black  ;  but  the  red  was  so  red  and 
the  black  so  black — the  satin  was  so  solid  and  glossy,  shining  liko 
polished  sheet-iron — that  the  general  effect  of  this  scarf  was  posi- 
tively overpowering.  You  longed  for  a  fire-engine  to  put  it  out, 
occasionally  playing  upon  yourself  to  prevent  your  taking  fire.  Add 
to  this  picture,  long,  lanky  black  hair,  small  twinkling  gray  eyes,  a 
hawk-like  nose  and  a  slight  moustache,  and  Mr.  Ferdinand  Keuo 
stands  before  you. 


irORE  VISITERS.  31 

. "  Mr.  Keno,"  said  Earnest,  shaking  hands  with  this  splendid- 
looking  specimen  of  humanity.  "  I  am  delighted  to  see  you — 
looking  so  well.  Let  me  confer  upon  you  the  pleasure  of  enlarging 
the  circle  of  your  acquaintances  by  introducing  my  very  particular 
friend  Mr.  Merivalc.    "  Mr.  Merivale,  Mr.  Keno." 

The  others  deserve  but  a  few  words.  One  was  the  dissolute  and 
depraved  scion  of  an  ancient  and  wealthy  family,  and  had  spent  his 
entire  youth  and  a  great  portion  of  his  immense  fortune,  in  an  unin- 
terrupted course  of  dissipation,  gambling  and  debauchery.  Naturally 
destitute  of  common  intelligence — the  unfailing  result  of  that  inces- 
tuous practice  of  intermarriage  which  is  the  bane  and  will  be  the 
destruction  of  all  aristocracies — all  his  animal  appetites  were  devel- 
oped with  a  force  and  violence  proportioned  to  the  feebleness  of  his 
intellect ;  and  as  in  the  one  respect  he  was  almost  a  fool,  so  in  the 
other  he  was  very  nearly  a  beast.  Keno,  a  noted  gambler,  who  had 
swindled  the  young  aristocrat  out  of  many  thousands  of  dollars, 
and  had  as  sure  a  hold  upon  the  remainder  of  his  fortune  as  the 
devil  had  upon  both  their  souls,  graciously  permitted  the  young  brute 
to  dangle  about  at  his  heels,  to  pay  his  bills  at  bawdy-houses,  and  to 
keep  his  cast-off  mistresses.  This,  from  so  distinguished  a  man  as 
Keno,  was  enough  for  the  young  nabob.  Wild  with  riot,  consuming 
with  drunkenness,  reeking  with  every  species  of  self-abandonment, 
the  human  monstor  rtjcognized  but  one  controlling  influence — his 
friend  Keno.  Him  he  worshiped  as  his  god.  For  the  rest,  his 
whole  existence  was  one  disgusting  compound  of  vice,  violence  and 
obscenity.  When  half  sober,  (as  low  as  he  ever  got  in  the  scale,) 
he  was  sullen  and  indifferent — when  fully  roused  with  drink  he  was 
quarrelsome,  ferocious  and  cowardly — in  fine,  he  was  a  brute  of  the 
very  lowest  species.  Not  so  fastidious  as  a  swine,  not  so  interesting 
as  a  rhinoceros,  nor  so  manageable  as  a  jackass. 

Him  also  Earnest  formally  introduced  to  Merivale  ;  and  the  brute 
being  in  his  sullen,  half-sober  state,  and  having  been  specially  put 
upon  his  good  behavior  by  his  friend  Keno,  who  had  brought  him  to 
this  bang-up  crib  as  a  great  favor,  he  did  nothing  to  attract  any 
particular  attention.  We  have  forgotten  to  mention  that  his  name 
was  Hammercloth. 

After  him  came  Mr.  Job  Pipson,  an  elderly  gentleman  of  about 
fifty,  who  wore  gold  spectacles  and  dyed  his  hair  ;  and,  although 
having  been  a  regular  visiter  at  the  gambling-house  for  over  a  quar- 
ter of  a  century,  and  having  during  that  time  added  full  a  score  to 
the  ranks  of  prostitution  by  seducing  poor  and  virtuous  girls,  and 
then  abandoning  them  to  their  fate  —he  had  still  managed  to  sustain 
his  respectability  and  credit.  He  kept  a  broker's  ofiice  in  a  den  in 
Wall  street,  and  he  dabbled  a  little  in  fancy  stocks,  note-shaving, 
pawn-broking  in  a  quiet  way,  and  other  such  honest  employments. 
He  was  well  known  to  all  the  young  bloods  about  town,  and  often 
supplied  them  with  money  on  first-rate  security,  at  an  enormous 
interest,  and  would  sometimes  luckily  mn  it  back  from  them  at  faro 


32  CELIO. 

in  Park  Place  the  same  evening.  By  these  means  he  amassed  large 
sums  of  money — no  one  knew  how  much.  In  his  habits  he  was  an 
ascetic  ;  never  drank — but  in  secret ;  and  never  indulged  in  any  of 
the  open  vices  that  characterised  the  age.  In  fact,  he  bore  the 
reputation,  with  his  landlady  and  her  maiden  sisters,  of  being  rather 
religious  and  over-particular  in  his  notions — especially  as  he  liad 
never  offered  to  take  the  slightest  advantage  of  their  unsuspecting 
innocence,  although  they  took  good  care  that  opportunities  should 
not  be  wanting. 

At  present,  Mr.  Pipson  had  a  charming  young  neice,  who  had 
arrived  but  a  few  months  ago,  and  was  boarding  at  the  very  house 
where  we  now  are.  He  bowed  slightly  to  Merivale  as  he  was  intro- 
duced by  Earnest,  and  immediately  joined  the  ladies. 

The  other  and  only  remaining  one  to  be  mentioned,  was  merely 
the  "  family  physician"  of  the  establishment,  who  acted  either  as 
doctor,  cully  or  stool-pigeon  to  the  inmates,  as  occasion  required. 
He  was  a  stout,  coarse-built,  good-looking  man,  of  a  jovial  and  sen- 
sual expression  of  countenance.  He  was  not  destitute  of  intellect, 
but  had  no  imagination,  and  consequently  was  as  selfish,  as  cunning, 
and  at  the  same  time  as  graceful,  as  a  bear.  He  was  married,  and 
had  a  large  family  of  children.  But  his  daily  walk  and  conversation 
were  irreproachable,  and  he  had  fortunately  chosen  the  very  profes- 
sion that  enabled  him  to  carry  on  his  secret  practice  without  sus- 
picion. He  rarely  ventured  to  show  himself  at  the  little  reunions 
of  Mme.  Persiflage  ;  and  even  now,  as  he  was  introduced  to  Meri- 
vale by  the  polite  Captain,  stammered  out  something  about  being 
"  obliged  to  see  his  pati'^nt  once  more  before  going  home  for  the 
night." 

"  Certainly,  Doctor,"  replied  Earnest  with  a  laugh,  "you  shall 
have  a  chance  of  seeing  your  patient  directly — though  I  don't  know 
exactly  who  it  is.  But  as  you  have  fortunately  dropped  in,  you  are 
just  on  hand  to  take  a  little  supper  and  a  glass  of  wine  with  us. 
And,  in  the  very  nick  of  time,  there  goes  Fandango's  bell." 

A  light  but  elegant  supper  of  cold  meats,  chickens  and  pickled 
oysters,  (it  was  too  late  in  the  season  for  the  ''  natives,"  and  flie 
eystem  of  planting  had  not  then  reached  Leonard  street,)  was  laid 
in  the  front  basement.  Let  not  our  unmetropolitan  reader  suppose 
that  it  was  down  celhir.  In  a  well-built  house  in  New  York,  the 
basements  are  as  comfortable  and  as  well-finished  as  any  other 
portion  of  the  building ;  and  probably  three  quarters  of  the  good 
eating  throughout  the  city  is  undergroimd.  The  staple  of  the  supper 
however  was  the  champagne,  whose  rich  yellow  Ught  gleamed  through 
Its  glass  prison,  like  sunshine  half  seen  through  morning  clouds. 
Little  superfluous  ceremony  was  used,  men  and  women  pairing  ©ff 
according  to  their  own  liking,  and  arranging  themselves  cosily  round 
the  table,  in  positions  and  groupings  rather  picturesque  than  con- 
Tentional. 

Upon  surveying  the  company,  however,  it  was  discovered  that  our 


THE    SUPPER.  38 

old  friend  Mr.  Job  Pipson  was  not  present.  During  the  passage 
from  the  parlor  to  the  supper-room  he  had  managed,  somehow,  to 
slip  out  unperceived.  In  a  few  minutes,  however,  he  came  in,  look 
ing  a  good  deal  flurried,  and  asked  if  any  body  had  seen  Matilda. 
Nobody  had  eitlier  seen  her  or  noted  her  aljsence  ;  and  after  laugh- 
ing at  the  old  gentleman  a  good  deal,  the  ladies  at  last  pulled  him 
into  a  seat  beside  little  Kitty,  who  seemed  to  enjoy  the  joke  mightily, 
and  said  she  supposed  it  was  all  correct  that  ""  extremes  should 
meet."  Pipson  was  evidently  still  uneasy,  and  kept  looking  anxiously 
At  the  door — but  he  tried  to  put  a  good  face  on  the  matter,  and  the 
;«uppcr  proceeded. 

It  was  a  scene  for  studying  human  nature  !  The  reckless  and 
Qoisy  laughter  of  the  girls,  who,  in  presence  of  their  pals  and  the 
unusual  good  nature  of  Earnest,  had  regained  all  their  spirits  ;  the 
plausible  and  smooth-faced  dandy  black-leg,  eyeing  the  stranger 
Merivale,  like  a  snake  watching  his  victim ;  the  discontented  yet 
salacious  hypocrite,  Pipson,  who  had  begun  to  get  inj^erested  in  his 
new  companion  ;  the  coarse,  jolly  doctor,  gloating  over  the  loosely- 
robed  forms  of  the  women,  and  turning  his  eyes  constantly  from  one 
to  the  other,  as  if  estimating  their  diiOferent  points ;  the  brutal  Ham- 
mercloth,  his  dull  leaden  eye  beginning  to  gleam  with  a  kind  of  lurid 
glare,  and  his  vulgar  speech  growing  tender  as  he  encircled  the  fair 
Margaret  with  his  brawny  arm ;  the  keen  and  yet  easy  glances  of 
Earnest,  who  evidently  was  among  but  one  of  this  strange  party — 
had  all  something  so  characteristic  and  bizarre  that  it  appeared  as 
if  the  materials  of  the  picture  must  have  been  carefully  and  curiously 
compounded  for  the  express  purpose  of  dramatic  effect.  And  yet, 
it  was  not  so ;  and  a  party  quite  as  strangely  constituted  may  be 
found  at  any  time  in  any  of  those  places  where  the  hypocrites  of 
society  lay  aside  the  monotonous  mask  of  conventionalism  and  appear 
each  in  his  real  character. 

With  the  women,  however,  the  case  is  exactly  reversed.  What 
to  men  is  perfect  abandonment  and  freedom  from  restraint,  is  to 
woman  the  most  exacting  and  utter  of  hypocrisies.  When  woman 
abandons  virtue  she  loses  her  own  natural  and  free  life,  and  must 
wear  a  mask  of  conventional  vice,  which  fills  her  soul  with  secret 
horror  and  her  heart  with  loathing  and  disgust.  There  is  therefore 
a  remarkable  sameness  in  the  manners,  language,  and  even  in  the 
tone  of  voice,  among  women  of  this  class,  which  impresses  one  much 
like  the  monotony  of  the  mad-house.  There,  too,  are  all  alike.  It 
was  this  observation  that  led  me  first  to  suspect  that  female  licen- 
tiousness is  a  species  of  insanity — a  suspicion  which  has  become 
almost  a  conviction. 

"  Ladies  and  gentlemen,"  said  Earnest  in  a  loud  voice,  which 
instantly  fixed  the  attention  of  all,  as  he.  rose  and  cut  the  cord  of 
a  new  bottle  of  Renauld  &  FranOois',  ''  I  am  about  to  give  you  a 
toast.     Therefore,  fill,  and  let  it  be  bumpers." 

"  Bumpers  it  is — tops  and  bottoms,  I  suppose  you  mean,  Captain !" 
inquired  one  of  the  ladies. 


S4  CELIO. 

"  Certainly,  mj  dear — all  in  proper  order.     Now  then-- 

"  The  health  of  Mr.  Merivale  !" 

"  And  remember  that  he  is  my  especial  friend,  who  met  me  here 
by  appointment,  and  is  to  be  treated  with  all  attention,  all  respect 
and  all  honor.  Whoever  fails  in  this,  be  it  man  or  woman,  becomes 
my  enemy.     Let  that  be  understood." 

"  The  health  of  Mr.  Merivale,  Captain  Earnest's  friend  ?"  was 
heard  trying  to  bubble  its  way  up  from  half  a  score  of  throats  at 
once. 

"  Now,  then,"  continued  Earnest,  "  I  have  a  very  great  favor  to 
ask  of  the  ladies — don't  laugh,  my  dears,  I  mean  of  all  of  you  ;  and 
as  I  don't  often  do  anything  of  the  kind,  I  hope  you  will  not  refuse 
me." 

"  Oh,  Captain !  of  course  we  can  refuse  you  nothing." 

"  Well  then — let  us  see.  What  I  desire  is  this.  My  friend  Mr. 
Merivale,  here,  is  a  philosopher,  you  must  know ;  and  has  done  us 
the  honor  to  be  our  guest  on  the  present  occasion,  for  the  purpose 
of  studying  human  nature.  I  wish  you,  therefore,  each  of  you,  to 
give  us  her  personal  history,  and  the  means  by  which  she  came  here. 
It  is  not  necessary  to  tell  you  why  I  ask  this — but  it  is  for  a  better 
reason  than  mere  curiosity.     Come,  pretty  ones,  who  will  begin  ?" 

"  I  move  we  take  it  alphabetically,"  said  a  buxom  beauty,  who 
was  for  the  nonce  companion  to  the  doctor. 

"  Oh,  yes,"  said  little  Kitty  ;  "  and  so  you  think.  Miss  Virginia, 
because  your  name  begins  with  a  V,  you  will  get  clear  off.  Now,  I 
move  that  if  it  is  to  be  alphabetically,  we  take  it  upside  down." 

There  was  something  ludicrous  in  this  idea,  put  forth  so  earnestly 
and  demurely  by  little  Kitty ;  and  everybody  was  delighted  with  it. 

"  Oh,  upside  down,  upside  down,  by  all  means  !"  was  exclaimed 
all  round  the  table. 

"  But  Captain,"  interposed  Merivale,  "  where's  my  speech  of 
acknowledgement  for  the  honor  you  did  me  in  drinking  my  health  ?" 

"  Oh  yes,  I  forgot  that." 

"  Never  mind,  it  isn't  too  late — Mr.  Merivale's  speech  !"  cried 
the  ladies. 

Mr.  Merivale  rose  ;  and  beckoning  Cleopatra  to  him,  put  his 
purse  into  her  hand  and  said, "  Tell  your  mistress  to  pay  herself  for 
this  delicious  entertainment  out  of  tliat,  and  keep  the  rest  till  I  call 
for  it."     He  then  sat  down,  amid  bravoes  and  laughter. 

"  By  the  spoons,  old  cock  !"  belched  out  Hammercloth,  using  his 
throat  almost  for  the  first  time  during  the  evening  for  anything  but 
suction  ;  "  that's  what  I  call  a  good  speech.  You  shall  go  to  Con- 
gress and  hang  them  anti-renters,  you  shall!" 

"  Very  handsome  indeed,  sir,  but  very  unexpected  and  very  unne- 
cessary," said  Earnest.-  ^'  But  now  that  is  got  along  with,  come, 
Miss  Virginia,  begin  the  auto-biographies." 

"  Well,  Captain,  you  have  such  a  way  with  you,  I  suppose  I  must. 
But  I  am  afraid  I  shall  make  sad  work  of  it.  I  am  no  great  hand 
at  talking,  any  how.     But  here  goes  : 


35 

"  I  am  the  daughter  of  a  farmer  in  Cortland  county.  When  I 
was  about  fifteen,  my  cousin  Tom,  who  was  the  scholar  of  my  uncle's 
family,  and  had  just  graduated,  came  to  Homer,  where  we  lived,  to 
spend  some  weeks.  He  was  a  handsome  young  man,  and  seemed  to 
me  a  perfect  angel.  He  was  so  superior  to  the  country  boys  I  had 
been  in  the  habit  of  seeing — so  deferential  and  soft  in  his  mannei', 
that  he  completely  won  my  heart  before  I  knew  what  I  was  about. 
I  really  don't  believe  he  meant  any  harm,  poor  fellow — and  if  he 
did  I  freely  forgive  him — but  one  day  we  were  rambling  in  the 
woods  all  alone,  and  had  walked  very  far  and   got  very  tired,  and 

sat  down  on  a  bank  to  rest. 

*#«*#♦♦ 

But  at  last  we  dried  our  eyes  ;  and  after  kissing  each  other  and 
swearing  eternal  fidelity,  we  washed  our  faces  in  the  brook  and  went 
home  as  gaily  as  if  nothing  had  happened. 

"  Well — let  me  get  on  as  fast  as  possible.  In  a  few  months  after 
this  I  found  too  late  what  I  had  been  about,  and  was  almost  insane 
with  terror  and  despair.  My  cousin  had  gone  to  the  city  to  com- 
mence his  professional  studies,  and  I  saw  no  other  chance  than  to 
break  the  hearts  of  my  poor  parents  by  telling  them  of  my  disgrace. 
But  this  I  couldn't  bear.  At  last  I  bethought  me  of  going  to  the 
minister  and  making  a  confidant  of  him.  He  was  a  very  godly  man, 
and  had  always  seemed  to  take  a  peculiar  fancy  to  me,  even  from 
childhood.  Therefore,  after  much  ado,  to  him  I  went  and  made  a 
clean  breast  of  the  whole  afiair.  The  old  fellow  seemed  to  be 
horror-struck ;  thought  awhile,  and  then,  bidding  me  be  comforted, 
told  me  he  had  hit  upon  a  plan  for  getting  me  out  of  the  scrape. 
But  the  preliminary  condition  insisted  upon  by  the  old  scamp  was 
tiiat  I  should  grant  him  the  same  favor  I  had  done  to  cousin  Tom ! 
I  seemed  to  have  no  alternative,  and  so  I  yielded.  Thus,  by  my 
instinctive  trust  in  love  and  my  natural  veneration  for  religion  and 
its  minister,  was  I,  while  yet  a  child,  perverted  to  shame.  Is  it 
strange  that  I  have  grown  hard-hearted  and  reckless,  and  learned 
to  look  on  life  as  a  game  of  cribbage,  at  which  he  who  notches  the 
most  points  as  he  goes  along,  is  most  likely  to  win  ?" 

^'  True,"  said  Earnest  and  Merivale,  both  in  a  breath — "  go  on^ 
goon." 

"  Well — all  the  rest  of  my  experience  is  common-place  enough. 
Cousin  Tom,  soon  finding  from  the  levity  and  hollowness  of  my  con- 
duct that  I  was  not  what  I  had  been,  deserted  me.  I  do  not  blame 
him — and  I'm  sure  that  can't  be  a  tear ! — but  still  I  never  should 
Have  given  myself  to  him  in  the  woods,  only  he  said  he  should  die 
without  me,  and  I  was  willing  to  die  to  make  him  happy.  But  I 
forgive  him.  Of  course  it  wouldn't  do  for  a  man's  honor  that  he 
should  marry  a  poor  girl  after  he  had  ruined  her.  Father  and 
mother — ah,  that  was  the  crudest  blow  ! — at  last  found  out  all  about 
It,  and  father,  taking  me  one  dreary  rainy  evening  into  their  bed- 
room, made  me  confess  everything.     Mother  took  it  to  heart  dread- 


36  CELIG. 

fully,  and  got  sick  and  died ;  but  father  went  to  drinking,  and  soon 
had  to  sell  his  farm.  His  credit  was  gone,  and  he  couldn't  work — 
so  he  went  to  the  country  poor-house  ;  while  I,  with  madness  in  my 
heart,  and  its  determination  and  coolness  in  my  brain,  came  on  foot 
and  alone  to  New  York  to  seek  and  execute  revenge  upon  mankind, 
and  at  the  same  time  to  indulge  my  perverted  and  unnatural  appe- 
tites to  the  full.  I  know  I  am  a  demon — a  she -devil — as  are  all 
women  who  have  lost  their  virtue ;  and  I  mean  to  make  the  most 
of  it." 

The  handsome  narrator,  as  she  went  on,  had  warmed  with  her 
subject,  becoming  fiercely  excited  with  the  recital  of  her  own 
wrongs  and  crimes  ;  and  when  she  concluded  she  seemed  like  an 
inspired  fury.  Fire  flashed  from  her  beautiful  eyes  ;  her  well- 
formed  bosom,  partially  exposed  by  the  dress  she  wore,  (the  uniform 
of  her  tribe,)  heaved  tumultuously,  and  her  symmetrical  and  well- 
knit  frame  shivered  with  passion.  Pouring  out  a  brimming  goblet 
of  champagne,  she  gulped  it  down  at  a  breath,  and  sank  sullenly 
back  in  her  chair. 

''  And  are  you  happy  now  ?"  at  last  inquired  Merivale. 

"  Happy?  yes  !  As  happy  as  the  devils  in  hell !  But  give  me 
more  wine — that's  the  stuff  !     Now  I  feel  like  myself  again." 

"  Byron  was  right  in  his  opinion  respecting  champagne,"  said  the 
doctor,  slowly  refilling  his  glass  and  inhaling  the  sparkling  foam  as 
it  creamed  round  his  lips.  " '  The  spring-dew  of  the  spirit — the 
heart's  rain  !'     Isn't  it  pretty,  my  dear  ?" 

"  Why,  doctor,"  said  Earnest,  "  when  and  how  do  you  find  time 
to  study  the  poets  ?  .  I  had  thought  that  the  arduous  and  incessant 
nature  of  your  profession  confined  you  exclusively  to  the  Materia 
Medica  and  the  clinique." 

"  If  you  tempt  me  to  be  personal,  Captain  Earnest,"  replied  the 
Doctor,  "  perhaps  I  might  give  you  something  you  wouldn't  exactly 
like  to  take." 

^'  Anything  from  you,  Doctor,"  Uiughcd  Earnest,  with  a  mocking- 
bow,  "  I  give  you  my  word  ;  anything  from  you — but  a  prescription.  ' 

"  And  yet  there  have  been  times  when  even  my  prescriptions  yoa 
have  found  useful." 

"  Well,  you  fierce  creatures,"  here  broke  in  little  Kitty;  '^  when 
you  get  done  with  your  quarreling,  we  will  go  on  with  tlie  business 
of  the  evening.     Come,  it's  Margaret's  turn." 

"  You  are  right,  my  darling  Kitty — and  there.  Doctor,  there's 
my  hand.  Sink  the  shop  and  let  us  attend  to  our  more  pleasant 
occupations." 

"Oh,  I  don't  bear  malice,  Captain.  So  let's  have  another  bottie, 
and  then  for  Maggy's  story." 

"  I  don't  believe  that  you'll  be  much  enlightened  or  amused  by 
the  history  of  my  life,"  said  the  half-sullen  Margaret ;  "  but  as 
that  is  the  game,  I  sha'n't  of  course  spoil  fun." 

"  I  haven't  any  fine  romance  and  innocent  babyhood  and  all  that 


Margaret's  story.  3T 

sort  of  thing,  to  amuse  you  with,  like  Jinny,  and  all  I  know  of  my- 
self is  barren  enough.  The  first  thing  I  can  remember  is  being 
cold  and  hungry,  and  half-naked  and  ragged,  and  sent  out  in  the 
rainy  mornings  barefooted  to  sweep  the  crossings  and  beg  for 
pennies.  I  have  a  sort  of  dim  remembrance  of  suffering  and  misery 
before  that — but  nothing  distinct.  I  was  so  young,  and  used  to 
plead  so  hard,  that  I  did  a  very  good  business,  and  frequently 
carried  home  half  a  dollar  at  night.  We  lived  in  a  little  back  cellar 
down  in  an  alley  in  Orange  street,  where  I  don't  remember  at  this 
moment  ever  to  have  seen  the  sun-light  enter.  The  floor  was  only 
loose  boards,  and  the  black  mud  and  slime  used  to  ooze  up  through 
the  cracks  all  about.  The  fire-place  wasn't  made  for  drawing,  and 
there  was  but  a  little  bit  of  a  window,  only  half  above  ground* 
Half  the  glass  was  broken  out  and  its  place  supplied  with  old  rags. 
So  the  room  was  generally  pretty  well  filled  with  smoke.  The 
damp  used  to  come  out  on  the  walls  and  stand  there  year  after  year 
in  big  gummy  drops.  There  was  a  little  closet  in  one  corner  of  the 
room — a  pine  table  against  the  walls,  three  or  four  wooden  chairs 
that  had  been  gradually  broken  down  to  stools,  and  a  large  collec- 
tion of  rags,  shavings,  straw  and  other  rubbish  in  the  corner  opposite 
the  closet.  I  remember  all  these  details  very  vividly,  because  they 
constituted — together  with  my  parents  and  brothers  and  sisters — 
the  home  of  my  childhood,  and  I  knew  no  other  place  in  the  world 
where  I  could  set  my  foot.  Whether  I  remember  it  with  pleasure 
or  hatred  you  may  judge  for  yourselves. 

"  At  any  rate,  in  this  one  cellar  my  father  and  mother,  my  two 
brothers  and  sisters,  all  lived  together.  Let  me  say  nothing  of  them 
— whatever  they  were  or  wherever  they  are,  /  have  nothing  to  boast 
over  them,  except  the  possession  of  a  little  more  energy  and  reck- 
lessness. But  I  will  say  one  thing.  They  never  beat  me  when  I 
had  been  unlucky  in  my  day's  work  ,  but  often,  when  I  came  home 
crying  bitterly  with  my  frozen  little  fingers  almost  empty,  and 
dragging  my  old  broom  wearily  over  my  shoulder,  my  mother's  face 
has  "beamed  with  an  expression  of  generous  sympathy  and  affection 
— I  know  it  must  have  been,  for  it  was  so  different  from  all  I  have 
seen  since.  Both  my  father  and  mother  drank  whiskey  whenever 
tbey  could  get  a  chance,  and  I  early  imbibed  a  passionate  fondness 
for  it.  Yet  I  remember  perfectly  well  that  I  loathed  the  smell  and 
taste  of  it.  But  after  I  had  drank  it  I  felt  hke  another  being ;  it 
seemed  as  if  I  was  handsome  and  delicate,  and  wore  fine  clothes  and 
had  on  pretty  shoes  and  stockings,  like  the  fine  little  ladies  I  saw 
walking  with  their  mamas  in  Broadway.  It  appeared  to  transform 
all  the  world  into  the  pleasantest,  happiest  place  that  could  be  con- 
ceived. At  other  times  I  pined  and  longed  for  I  knew  not  what ; 
and  a  vague  but  fierce  spirit  of  despair  and  revenge  swelled  my  little 
heart  almost  to  bursting.  But  when  I  had  had  a  lucky  day,  and 
father  used  to  give  me  a  drink  of  raw  whiskey  out  of  his  bottle,  oh, 
I  felt  perfectly  glorious,  and  forgave  and  loved  everybody !     I  wa« 


B8  CELIO. 

right — I  am  right,  still.  Drunkenness  of  one  kind  or  another  is  the 
only  thing  left  to  a  poor  woman  in  this  world. 

^'  Well — when  I  got  older  they  wanted  me  to  leave  off  street- 
sweeping  and  take  to  thieving.  But  I  had  not  heen  on  the  crossings 
four  or  five  years  for  nothing,  and  I  had  formed  designs  of  a  different 
character.  In  a  word,  I  was  ambitious :  and  finding  that  I  was 
going  to  be  handsome,  I  determined  to  make  my  own  way  through 
the  world.  I  had  already  reflected  a  good  deal,  and  had  come  to 
the  conclusion  that  I  couldn't  be  any  worse  off,  anyhow.  And 
besides,  I  had  formed  a  sort  of  acquaintance  with  a  dashing,  splen- 
didly-dressed lady,  who  used  occasionally  to  stop  and  give  me  a  six- 
pence and  talk  to  me  in  the  street.  I  of  course  almost  worshiped 
her — she  looked  so  fine,  her  cheeks  were  so  red  and  her  teeth  so 
white ;  and  she  always  wore  brighter  colored  dresses  and  longer 
feathers  than  the  other  ladies  I  saw.  I  supposed  she  was  the 
Mayor's  wife  or  the  Queen,  at  least. 

"  I  was  now,  I  suppose,  somewhat  over  ten  years  of  age,  and  had 
already  made  considerable  progress  in  my  grand  but  very  indefinite 
schemes.  I  had  gradually  and  cautiously  collected  together  and 
secreted  money  enough  to  buy  some  second-hand  clothes,  which 
struck  me  as  being  overwhelmingly  grand  and  splendid.  And  I 
was  one  day  thrashing  about  with  my  broom  and  holding  out  my 
hand  mechanically  to  every  one  who  passed,  and  wondering  what 
liad  become  of  the  great  lady  who  used  to  stop  and  speak  to  me, 
when  I  heard  some  one  say : 

"  There,  little  girl — that  will  do.  Here's  a  penny,  but  don't 
spatter  me." 

It  was  she.  And  that  hour  decided  my  fate.  From  the  victim 
of  a  cruel  world  I  became  one  of  its  victimizers,  its  self-created 
scourges.  I  see  I  need  not  tell  you  what  was  the  character  of  my 
friend.  Enough  that  she  treated  me  honorably  and  found  me  not 
backward  in  adopting  her  views.  In  a  short  time  I  was  regularly 
established  as  her  partner  and  assistant,  wore  clothes  as  elegant  and 
gorgeous  as  her  own,  and  commenced  my  part  of  interesting  and  tender 
child.*  Pipson,  there,  knows  what  that  means.  Don't  you,  old  'un?" 


*  The  Sunday  papers  of  May  27,  1819  contained  an  official  report  of  a  case 
strikinf^^ly  similar  to  the  above.  For  the  information  of  those  who  do  not  read  police 
reports,  I  append  this  case,  as  it  was  given  in  the  Sunday  Cmirier  : 

Extraordinary  Depravity  of  a  Child.— On  Monday  last,  a  s:irl— a  mere  child 
but  ten  years  of  age,  and  in  youthful  appearance  even  less  than  that,  was  arrested 
on  a  charge  of  stealing  a  purse  with  S'-^O  in  money,  from  a  Mrs.  Ellis  in  Orange 
street.  On  being  taken  to  the  Tombs,  she  was  at  once  recognized  as  a  girl  who, 
some  time  ago,  liad  charged  a  respectable  Irish  woman  with  having  stolen  $bO  in 
gold  from  a  drunken  man  in  the  .street,  whicli  subsequent  occurrence  and  facts 
showed  to  have  been  stolen  by  the  girl  herself  Suspicion  being  aroused,  and 
enquiries  made,  facts  were  brought  to  light,  which  elicited  from  the  ^'irl  a  confession 
of  other  things,  forming  altogether  a  tale  of  crime  and  iniquity  whicli  it  was  almost 
impossible  to  believe  could  have  been  committed  by  one  so  young  and  apparently 
auch  a  child.  The  facts  developed  showed  that  this  child  had  made  a  re]^ular  pro- 
fession of  thievery.     That  she  had  for  a  long  time  been  in  the  habit  of  ridiiig  in 


A  FATAL  BLOW.  39 

"  Ye-a-a-8,  we  have  heard  of  the  business — brings  very  good 
prices,  my  dear." 

''  Yes,  yes — they  make  you  old  scamps  bleed  pretty  freely,  al- 
though one  would  think  there  wasn't  a  drop  of  blood  in  your  veins. 
I  don't  know  as  I  have  any  more  to  say.  I  don't  feel  that  I  have 
done  wrong.  On  the  contrary,  when  I  remember  the  squalid,  loath- 
some, suflfocathig  home  of  my  childhood,  and  contrast  my  condition 
then  with  what  it  is  now,  I  feel  as  if  I  ought  to  be  pretty  well  satis- 
fied at  the  way  I  have  managed  to  get  up  in  the  world.  I  live  freely 
and  genevou-ly,  dress  like  a  princess,  drink,  eat  and  sleep  like  a 
king's  mi-iross,  and  care  for  nobody  on  earth.  I  sometimes,  to  be 
sure,  feel  a  kind  of  heart-sickness,  when  I  am'all  alone,  or  it  is 'a 
rainy,  dismal  day,  such  as  when  I  used  to  stand  barefooted  and  shiv- 
ering on  the  crossings,  begging  pennies ;  and  at  such  times  some- 
thing seems  to  whisper  to  me  that  I  am  a  horrible  creature.  But  I 
don't  stand  such  hysterical  spells  very  long.  A  good  stiff  glass  of 
brandy  and  water  soon  sets  me  all  right  again,  and  I  don't  care  that 
for  society,  its  good  opinion,  nor  anything  else." 

During  this  narrative,  Hammercloth  had  got  up  and  stumbled  out 
of  the  room  ;  but  no  one  took  any  particular  notice  of  his  absence. 
At  this  moment,  however,  the  woman  already  alluded  to  as  "  Ma- 
tilda," came  rushing  into  the  room,  exclaiming,  ''Keep  him  away! 
keep  him  away!  he'll  kill  me!"  In  an  instant  Hammercloth  was 
heard  swearing  and  hiccuping  on  the  stairs ;  and  bursting  open  the 
door,  staggered  in  with  a  large  knife  naked  in  his  hand.  His  face 
glowed  like  a  furnace,  and  his  eyes  seemed  starting  from  his  head. 
Matilda  screamed,  and  the  madman  immediately  made  a  rush  at  her. 

Quick  as  hght.  Earnest  sprang  up,  and  catching  Hammercloth's 
right  hand  by  the  wrist,  squeezed  it  so  hard  that  the  tendons  relaxed 
and  the  knife  fell  on  the  floor.  "  What  is  all  this  ?"  he  inquired, 
very  quietly. 

"  What  in is  that  to  you^  I  should  like  to  know !"  said  the 

other.     "  Take  that  and  be to  you  !"  and  he  discharged  a 

pistol  with  his  left  hand,  through  the  pocket  of  his  coat-skirt  where 
it  had  been  concealed.  The  explosion  had  scarcely  taken  place, 
before  Earnest,  seizing  a  champagne  bottle  from  the  table,  struck 

omnibuses,  and  frequenting  the  markets  or  crowded  thoroughfares,  for  the  purpose 
of  pursuing  her  nefarious  occupation,  and  that  she  had  during  the  past  five  months 
committed  thefts  which  would  amount  in  the  aggregate  to  hundreds  of  dollars.  It 
further  appeared  that  she  had  during  this  time  been  living  in  houses  of  ill-fame,  in 
the  fourth  ward — that  she  had  been  in  the  habit  of  making  purchases  of  furniture 
and  other  articles,  and  making  large  presents  to  the  abandcM^d  creatures  who  kept 
and  lived  in  those  places ;  and  still  more  extraordinary,  that  this  child  of  tender 
years  but  old  in  iniquity,  crime  and  vice,  had  actually  rented  premises,  furnished 
them,  and  was  keeping,  with  the  assistance  of  some  depraved,  woman,  a  house  of 
ill-fame.  Sudi  statements  appear  to  border  on  the  fabulous,  but  unfortunately  they 
are  too  true.  This  infant  in  years  but  ancient  in  crime,  was  brought  before  the 
Court  of  Special  Sessions  on  Monday,  and  her  guilt  being  proven,  she  was  sent  to 
the  House  of  Refuge,  in  the  hope,  which,  however,  in  such  a  case,  must  evidently 
be  a  slight  one,  that  she  may  be  reformed,  and  become  a  useful  member  of  society. 


40  CELIO. 

Hammercloth  on  the  back  of  the  head,  and  he  fell,  ox-like,  to  the 
floor,  amid  the  shivered  fragments.  Earnest  then  coolly  tried  him- 
self to  see  if  he  was  wounded  ;  and  ascertaining  that  all  was  right, 
resumed  his  seat.  Meanwhile  the  doctor  proceeded  to  examine  the 
fallen  man.  He  had  tumbled  flat  upon  his  face,  and  a  little  tuft  of 
bloody  froth,  not  unlike  colored  champagne,  had  oozed  out  at  the 
mouth.  The  doctor  turned  him  over  on  his  back,  and  examined  the 
heart,  first  with  his  hand  and  then  with  his  ear.  He  then  shook  \ns 
head  very  gravely  and  professionally. 

"He'll  never  breathe  again.  Captain." 

"  'Taint  possible  ["  muttered  Keno,  "  there  goes  my  year's  work." 

Everybody  stood  'aghast — especially  Merivale,  who  looked  about 
uneasily,  as  if  for  an  opportunity  of  escaping.  Keno  pointed  signifi- 
cantly to  him. 

"  No,  no,  I  tell  you,"  said  Earnest,  hurriedly — "  I'll  answer  for 
him  with  my  own  life."  He  then  added  aloud,  "  Mr.  Merivale,  I 
^sh  you  to  take  especial  notice  of  this  unpleasant  circumstance. 
This  madman,  here,  as  you  saw,  was  running  after  a  woman  with 
his  drawn  knife,  evidently  with  the  intention  of  murdering  her.  I 
prevented  him,  when  he  fired  a  pistol  at  me ;  and  in  pure  self- 
defence  I  knocked  him  down  and  have  accidentally  killed  him.  Is 
this  correct?" 

"  Captain  Earnest,  that  is  literally  and  exactly  the  truth ;  and  I 
pledge  you  my  honor  that  my  testimony  to  that  effect  shall  be  forth- 
ooming  whenever  and  wherever  it  may  be  needed." 

"  And  mine,  and  mine,  and  mine,"  said  all. 

"Thank  you,  thank  you,"  said  the  Captain,  "but  I  trust  the 
case  will  not  come  before  the  tribunals.  They  are  awkward  and 
expensive  affairs  to  manage,  and  it  is  better  to  keep  clear  of  them. 
As  for  this  bull,  I  don't  know  as  I  ought  to  feel  very  compunctious 
for  having  put  him  out  of  the  world." 

"  But  then.  Captain — " 

"  Yes,  yes,  my  dear  Keno,  I  know  all  about  that.  But  never 
mind  ;  I'll  get  you  another  friend,  shortly.  What  do  you  say  to 
Merivale,  here?" 

The  gambler's  eyes  sparkled. 

"  Well,  well — be  patient.  And  now,  let  us  drag  this  lump  of 
beef  and  deposit  it  in  the  black  hole.  Mag,  you  clear  up  tlie  room 
a  little.  Let  us  make  haste,  too — for  some  wandering  policeman 
may  have  heard  that  pistol,  and  perhaps  will  be  poking  his  nose  in 
among  us." 

Taking  the  boc^  by  the  heels,  Earnest  snaked  it  into  tlie  base- 
ment hall,  towards  a  door  that  had  been  opened  apparently  in  the 
rear  wall  of  the  house.  As  he  approached,  a  faint,  siekly  odor,  as 
of  dead  lime  or  decaying  bones,  came  up  as  if  from  a  lo%  distance. 
With  an  energetic  jerk.  Earnest  slewed  the  body  round  and  canted 
it  over  the  threshold  of  this  door,  where,  the  dead  face  gleaming 
ghastily  for  an  instant  in  the  glare  of  the  gas-light,  it  disappeared. 


CLOSE  OF  THE  SEASON.  41 

In  two  or  three  seconds  after,  a  dull,  stifled  sound,  came  up,  as  if 
the  body  had  fallen  upon  mud  or  ashes — the  door  was  quickly  closed, 
fitting  so  neatly  into  the  wall  that  it  could  not  be  observed — and  the 
farcical  tragedy  of  the  life  of  young  Hammercloth  was  over  for  ever. 


CHAPTER  VI. 


PAYS    HIS    tailor's    BILL. THE  AUTHOR    STARTS  A    NEWSPAPER. 

The  season  was  over.     For  many  weeks  the  tide  of  fashionable 
ffoeiety  had  been  subsiding,  carrying  upon  its  retreating  waves  the 
artists  and  other  celebrities  who  had  imparted  unwonted  brilliancy 
to  fashionable  life  during  the  winter.     Still  a  few  of  the  more  aris- 
tocratic families,  who  could  afibrd  to  do  as  they  pleased,  threw  open 
their  saloons  at  regular  intervals  and  received  their  friends  as  usual, 
although  the  spacious  rooms  were  no  longer  uncomfortably  crowded, 
and   all  who  did  come  enjoyed  themselves  much  more  than  ever. 
There  is  in  all  mixed  society  a  certain  amount  (and  no  very  small 
amount  either)  of  what  may  appropriately  be  called  the  neutral  tint 
in  the  picture  of  social  life — the  burnt  ombre  and    bistre  in  the 
color-palette  of  Fashion — very  necessary  and  useful  people  in  their 
way  (and  in  every  body  else's  way)  and  by  no  means  to  be  neglected 
by  vulgar  aspirants  to  the  honors  of  high  life,  just  trying  to  crawl 
over  their  counters  into  the  world,  or  ride   upon  their  yard  sticks 
into   the  mysterious  precints  of  fashionable  society.     But  the  first 
week  of  bright  sunshiny  weather  dismays  all  these  persons,  who 
pack  off  in  hot  haste  to  be  roasted  at  Saratoga,  or  broiled  and 
bleached  at  Newport,  lest  somebody  should  suspect  they  are  not 
"  fashionable."     If,  by  any  sad  mischance,  one  of  this  class  should 
be  obliged  to  remain  in  town,  he  straightway  bars  up  his  front  door, 
offers  inducements  to  spiders  to  colonize  the  portico — while  the  mem- 
bers of  the  household   exist  in  the  kitchen  and  steal  out  after  dark 
through  back  streets,  for  fear  some  one  should  recognize  them  and 
report  them  not  "  fashionable." 

But  at  length  the  season  was  fairly  over,  and  Dullness  reigned 
supreme  throughout  the  realm  of  Fashion  and  Society.  Yet  the 
Carletons  Mid  not  go  out  of  town,  nor  did  they  exhibit  any  signs  of 
being  aware  that  the  season  was  not  in  full  tide.  Celio  felt  himself 
more  than  ever  attracted  to  the  house  of  his  aristocratic  friends, 
although  he  never  thought  of  asking  himself  why,  and  was  now  a 


42  GELIO 

daily  and  welcome  visitor  there.  He  came  and  went  at  all  times 
without  announcement  or  ceremony  of  any  kind,  and  was,  in  short, 
fully  established  as  a  member  of  the  family.  Meanwhile  his  pecu- 
niary embarrassments  increased  upon  him,  and  had  now  accumii- 
lated  to  such  an  extent  that  he  was  in  despair.  Oh,  how  humilia- 
ting to  the  high  and  noble  soul  of  Celio  to  become  the  daily  and 
almost  hourly  victim  of  duns,  to  run  the  gauntlet  of  every  variety 
of  bill-holder,  from  the  arrogant  collector  of  his  fashionable  tailor, 
who  daily  examined  him  through  an  immense  quizzing-glass  while 
he  was  making  his  excuses,  down  to  the  poor  washerwoman,  who, 
he  knew,  had  not  the  means  of  buying  food  for  herself  and  family, 
unless  he  could  pay  his  miserable  little  debt  to  her  !  And  yet  he 
sometimes  had  not  even  this.  Since  the  excitements  of  the  fire  and 
the  incidents  connected  with  it,  Celio  had  felt  that  it  was  impossible 
for  him  to  devote  that  assiduous  attention  to  his  employment  which 
was  absolutely  necessary  for  the  strict  discharge  of  his  duty.  He 
felt  this,  and  felt  it  keenly — but  he  could  not  help  it.  His  mind 
had  become  too  much  occupied  in  a  new  direction  for  him  to  rein- 
state himself  in  his  old  routine  and  his  accustomed  habits  of  thought. 
The  labors  of  his  profession  became  irksome  and  disgusting  to  him  ; 
and,  lest  he  should  be  guilty  of  that  greatest  as  well  as  smallest  of 
all  meannesses — cheating  his  employer  with  poor  service — he  re- 
signed peremtorily  his  situation  which  no  persuasion  nor  remon- 
strances could  induce  him  to  retain. 

Oh,  then  he  felt  like  another  being !  For  the  first  time  in  his  life 
he  had  shaken  off  from  his  limbs  and  brain  the  shackles  of  daily 
labor.  He  was  free — he  might  do  as  he  pleased — there  was  a  buoy- 
ant and  sustaining  joy  in  the  very  thought !  But  he  did  not  wait 
long  to  learn  that  absolute  poverty  and  want  are  harder  masters 
than  even  severe  and  poorly-requited  labor.  He  had  reduced  his 
expenses  to  the  smallest  possible  amount — had  taken  lodgings  in  a 
poor  little  garret,  and  often  went  to  his  hard  bed  hungry,  for  the 
purpose  of  eking  out  his  small  store.  But  he  never  stopped  to 
think  where  this  must  lead  to,  or  that  it  must  inevitably  have  a 
speedy  end.     He  regarded  only  the  present. 

At  first  he  had  not  dreamed  of  loving  Nina  but  as  a  dear  chfld  to 
whom  a  strange  destiny  had  given  paramount  claims  to  his  care  and 
protection.  He  used  to  go  day  by  day  and  sit  with  her  in  the  little 
room  which  her  kind  friends  had  appropriated  to  her,  and  talk  with 
ner  in  her  own  beautiful  language,  until  she  had  told  him  all  she 
knew  of  her  romantic  and  touching  history.  Her  father,  Gianfran- 
cesco  Bounnaturi,  was  a  native  of  Milan — the  son  of  a  distinguished 
painter,  and  himself  a  man  of  bold  and  fiery  genius  in  his  art,  as 
well  as  an  audacious  thinker  and  a  reckless  speaker  of  his  thoughts. 
Such  a  man  could  not  live  in  Italy  ;  and  he  was  graciously  permit- 
ted, by  an  agent  of  Prince  Motternich,  to  travel  in  search  of  health. 
This  had  been  when  Nina  was  a  mere  child  ;  and  for  several  years 
the  artist  had  been  living  in  the  New  World,  very  poor  and  scant 


MEKTING  A   FRIEND.  43 

of  means,  but  contented,  and  oftentimes  even  happj— for  he  had 
his  picture,  the  great  work  of  his  life,  ever  before  him,  and  his 
beautiful  daughter  was  bj  his  side. 

Nina  had  received  much  instruction  from  her  father,  especially  in 
music  ;  and  possessing  a  voice  of  extraordinary  power  and  sweet- 
ness, she  achieved  the  greatest  proficiency  in  this  divine  art.  Seat- 
ed at  the  piano  in  Mr.  Carleton's  quiet  parlor,  with  Mrs.  Carleton 
on  one  side  and  Celio  on  the  other,  and  Mr.  Carleton  in  his  easy 
chair,  by  the  open  window  whence  the  air  came  freshly  in  from  over 
the  Bay,  feeding  the  invalid  with  grateful  breath,  she  used  to  pour 
out  her  pure  and  fervid  soul  in  song  until  she  seemed  absolutely  to 
be  transmuted  into  a  spirit  by  the  refining  passion  and  fire  tliat 
breathed  from  her  lips  and  bosom.  At  such  times  Celio  gazed  upon 
the  unconscious  and  beautiful  artist  until  he  dared  not  breathe  for 
fear  of  dissolving  the  delicious  spell  in  which  he  was  entranced ; 
while  Mrs.  Carleton,  looking  from  one  to  the  other  with  eyes  that 
dared  not  shut  lest  they  should  expel  their  tearful  guests,  would  steal 
away  and  leave  them  to  the  new  and  unexplored  world  of  dreams 
just  opening  before  them.  Yes — they  had  a  right  to  love — it  was 
well — she  was  glad  of  it.  But  yet  a  presentiment  thrilled  her 
heart  to  its  inmost  depths  that  Celio  did  not  love  this  bright  being 
save  as  a  fond  and  tender  brother.  How  could  any  heart  but  her's 
know  how  to  appreciate  and  admire  such  a  soul  as  Cello's '? 

Returning  from  one  of  these  scenes,  his  head  drooped  upon  his 
breast,  in  gloomy  meditation,  on  his  frowning  fortunes,  mixed  with 
vague,  wild,  sensations  of  doubt  and  rapture  which  grew  like  a  fever 
in  his  veins,  and  gradually  accelerating  his  steps  as  if  he  would  fly 
from  himself,  Celio  felt  a  hand  laid  familiarly  upon  his  shoulder, 
while  a  voice  said  : 

"  Why,  as  I  am  a  respectable  citizen,  it  is  Mr.  Celio  !  My  dea,r 
friend,  how  glad  I  am  to  have  picked  you  up  again !  I  really  almost 
began  to  think  that  you  had  got  married,  or  joined  the  church,  or 
some  such  dreadful  thing." 

The  person  who  spoke  had  scarcely  the  right  of  claiming  so  great 
a  degree  of  intimacy — he  had  only  met  Celio  at  public  places — at 
balls,  theatres,  concerts,  Florence's,  Delmonico's  and  the  Opera — 
and  their  intercourse  had  been  confined  principally  to  the  exchange 
of  the  usual  civilities.  However,  Celio  was  in  a  humor  to  desire  a 
friend  and  to  accept  the  first  that  ofiered.  He  felt  a  sense  of  plea- 
surable relief  in  being  interrupted  in  his  reflections,  and  his  answer 
was  frank  and  gay. 

"  Upon  my  editorial  veracity,  Captain  Earnest,  we  are  delighted 
at  the  opportunity  of  renewing  our  acquaintance  with  your  royal 
person.  How  have  the  destinies  comported  themselves  toward  you 
since  we  last  met?" 

"  Excellently  well,  sir.  But  you — what  mighty  question  were 
you  asking  of  the  flag-stones  when  I  overtook  you  1  I  doubt  if  you 
got  a  very  clear  answer." 


44  CELIO. 

"  I  ?     Nothing.     I  was  only  thinking." 

"  Mr.  Celio,  I  believe,"  said  a  short,  gruff  personage,  meeting  thr 
two  gentlemen  and  stopping  directly  in  front  of  our  hero. 
•  "  Yes,  sir — -what  is  it  you  wish  V  answered  Celio,  with  a  debtor'f 
presentiment  stealing  like  a  cold  chill  over  him. 

"  Messrs.  Serge  &  Co.  have  a  little  bill  against  you  which  thej 
have  given  me  to  collect.  You  are  never  at  your  lodgings — by  thi 
way,  you've  changed  your  boarding  house  since  the  first  of  May,  I 
see — bad  sign,  young  man — so  I  stopped  you.  I  hope  you  have  thfi 
amount  about  you." 

The  insolent,  bantering  tone  of  the  man  and  the  grinning  sneer 
with  which  it  was  accompanied,  roused  the  fiercest  ire  of  Celio,  not- 
withstanding that  he  was  a  debtor,  and  all  debtors  are  and  ought  to 
be  cowards  to  their  creditors  and  their  blood-hounds. 

"  Sir,"  said  he,  in  a  low,  grating  voice,  whose  edges  grew  jagged 
as  they  were  forced  through  his  shut  teeth,  "  I  have  nothing  to  say 
about  business  to  such  an  ill-bred  ruffian  as  you  ;  and  if  you  don  t 
stand  aside  and  let  me  pass,  I  shall  certainly  knock  you  down." 

"  Oh,  ho  !  Knock  down  a  man  for  presenting  a  bill  to  you  in  the 
street  because  he  can  never  find  you  at  home — if  you  have  got  any 
home  at  all !  There's  a  fine  fashionable  buck  for  you !  Gentlemen, 
I  call  upon  you  for  protection !  I  want  this  spark  to  pay  his  bill, 
and  he  threatens  to  knock  me  down.  You  who  have  shabby  debtors 
stand  by  me,  and  we'll  see  if  I  can't  plague  it  out  of  him." 

It  is  as  easy  to  make  a  little  crowd  in  Broadway  as  to  create  a 
ripple  in  a  swift  current.  We  have  seen  five  hundred  eager  specta- 
tors collected  in  half  a  minute  to  watch  a  fight  between  two  negro 
boys — which  turned  out,  after  all,  to  be  in  sport ;  and  the  falling  of 
an  omnibus  horse,  or  the  discovery  of  an  unusually  large  tobacco 
quid  upon  the  pavement  are  sufficient  to  raise  quite  an  extempore 
crowd.  Already  Celio  and  his  companion  were  surrounded  by  a 
crowd  every  instant  growing  larger,  while  the  irritated  collector  ex- 
pounded his  case  in  no  very  choice  terms  to  the  amusement  and  edi- 
fication of  the  bystanders — for  who  refrains  from  laughing  at  the 
embarrassments  or  distresses  of  a  stranger  ?  and  more  especially, 
who  would  not  assist  in  ridiculing  a  fellow  guilty  of  being  in  debt? 
It  was  well  for  poor  Celio  that  he  got  off  without  being  suspended  to 
an  awning-post. 

At  first  Cello's  companion  had  fallen  back  a  step  or  two ;  but 
learning  the  character  of  the  scene,  and  seeing  at  a  glance  how  mat- 
ters stood,  he  stepped  up  to  the  incorrigible  dun,  and  drawing  both 
bim  and  Ceho  through  the  crowd,  (juickly  disappeared  with  them 
down  the  steps  of  an  oyster-cellar.  Celio,  half  dead  with  vexation, 
shame  and  rage,  scarcely  knew  what  trauv^plred  until  he  saw  his  ac- 
quaintance pull  out  his  pocket  book  and  ask  the  fellow  to  show  his 
bill. 

"  Captain  Earnest,  what  are  you  about?  I  charge  you  to  do  no 
Buob  thing,  sir  !     I  have  no  means  ';f  re-paying  you — the  amount  is  a 


A   DEBT  PAID.  45 

large  one — besides,  I  do  not  allow  another  to  pay  my  debts.  I 
insist — " 

"  Now  my  good  fellow,  do  be  easy  one  moment.  I  know  all  about 
that.  I'll  apologize  to  you  for  my  impertinence  directly.  Here, 
you  rascal !  give  me  the  receipt,  and  here  is  your  money.  Now  let 
me  escort  you  upstairs."  And  taking  tlie  delighted  collector  by  the 
arm,  he  led  him  up  the  steps  and  launched  him  with  a  tremendous 
kick  into  the  middle  of  the  stream  that  ever  pours  its  turbid  tide 
along  the  two-shilling  pavement.  The  fellow  slid  along  several 
paces  with  the  unexpected  momentum,  like  a  ship  leaving  the  ways ; 
and  then  recovering  himself,  he  turned  fiercely  round  upon  his 
assailant  with  a  most  ludicrous  scowl  upon  his  parchment  visage. 
But  affairs  were  changed  ;  he  was  now  the  laughed  at.  The  passers 
grinned  and  pointed  ;  a  httle  negro  showed  ivory  sufficient  for  a 
set  of  billiard-balls  and  chuckled  as  if  he  were  about  choking  to 
death ;  Captain  Earnest  looked  up  and  down  the  street  as  if  nothing 
had  happened  ;  and  the  unlucky  dun  again  set  his  face  Grace 
Churchward,  and  was  lost  in  the  swiftly  passing  procession.  He 
had  got  kicked,  truly — but  he  had  got  his  money ! 

Earnest  now  returned  to  his  somewhat  bewildered  companion, 
whom  he  found  apparently  lost  in  examining  the  outline  of  a  pecu- 
liarly well-developed  female  bust,  lithographed  and  highly  colored, 
and  which  hung  in  a  gold  frame  against  the  back  of  a  little  recess 
into  which  the  whole  party  had  been  crammed  by  Earnest  upon  first 
entering  this  oysterial  abode. 

''Well,  how  will  you  have  them,  fried  or  roasted?  Or  stay — 
we'll  have  them  broiled.  And  do  you  hear,  boy,  bring  us  some 
brandy  and  water,  quick  and  strong." 

"  Captain  Earnest,  I  really  take  intense  shame  to  myself  for  per- 
mitting things  to  go  so  far — so  irretrievably  far,"  he  added,  hesita- 
tingly ;  "for  I  do  assure  you  upon  my  honor  that  I  have  not  part 
of  the  money  you  have  paid  for  me.  Had  I  not  been  completely 
stupified  by  the  strangeness  of  the  encounter,  and  all  together,  I 
should  have — but  in  truth  I  know  not  what  to  do." 

"  Come  now,  that's  a  capital  speech,  and  exactly  to  the  purpose ; 
you  shall  go  to  Congress  one  of  these  days.  But  you  are  wasting 
your  eloquence  sadly,  my  dear  Mr.  Celio.  It  would  require  Mr. 
Webster  himself,  (but  he  is  a  great  deal  too  wise  to  think  of  such  a 
thing,)  to  convince  me  that  I  am  wrong  to  lend  a  devilish  good  fellow 
a  little  money  to  help  him  out  of  an  unpleasant  predicament,  when 
he  happens  to  be  short  and  I  in  funds.  There  now,  let  it  all  go ; 
let  us  say  no  more  about  it." 

"  But  you  will  at  least  take  my  note.  You  smile,  as  if  you 
deprecated  so  frail  a  security ;  but  in  such  a  case  as  this  I  feel  sure 
that  it  will  be  ample.  I  could  not  sleep  and  reflect  that  an  obliga- 
tion of  this  nature,  and  so  strangely  conferred,  remained  unprovided 
for  in  some  way.     It  shall  be  paid,  and  that  soon." 

"  Very  well — yes,  you're  right ;  so  we'll  have  it  all  arranged  t*- 


46  CELIO. 

morrow.  Meanwhile,  here  comes  the  brandy  and  water.  Come, 
help  yourself,  and  let  us  have  a  little  dish  of  talk  while  they  are 
dishing  up  the  oysters.  The  truth  is,  my  dear  friend,  that  I  have 
been  wishing  to  come  across  you  for  some  time.  I  have  a  grand 
plan  on  foot  for  establishing  a  newspaper.  Don't  laugh ;  I  know 
exactly  what  I  am  about,  and  that  I  shall  succeed.  Now  unfortu- 
nately— you  don't  drink  a  drop,  my  dear  Celio !  Some  sugar  here, 
you  rascal !  and  a  bottle  of  champagne  with  the  oysters," — ^he  added 
in  a  whisper  to  the  waiter.  "  Unfortunately,  I  am  but  a  dull  clod 
at  the  pen.  My  thoughts  come  like  lago's,  bird-lime  fashion, 
plucking  away  with  them  brains  and  all.  Your  sparkling,  eager, 
exuberant  vein  is  just  what  I  want  in  my  newspaper — will  show 
everybody  that  we  are  in  earnest — will  carry  off  our  new  journal 
brilliantly.  No  sacrifice  of  principle — write  what  you  please,  only 
expose  vice  and  humbug  and  hypocrisy.  What  do  you  say  ?  Is  it 
a  bargain'?" 

Celio  felt  the  old  insatiable  thirst  of  literary  fame — partially 
smothered  since  the  new  development  of  his  heart  and  passions  under 
the  influence  of  his  two  female  friends — come  back  strongly  upon 
him.  It  seemed  to  gush  up  from  the  very  depths  and  fountains  of 
his  existence  and  send  a  thrill  through  his  brain. 

"  I  fear,  Captain  Earnest,  that  you  have  far  overrated  my  poor 
abilities.  But  if  they  can  be  of  any  real  service  to  you,  I  shall  be 
only  too  happy — " 

"  Say  no  more,  say  no  more ;  it  is  a  bargain.  From  this  moment 
our  interests  are  one.  And  here  come  the  oysters,  broiled  to  a  turn, 
I  declare.  Oysters  are  as  dry  as  chips  without  champagne.  Try 
a  glass  of  this — red,  by  my  beard !  But  no  matter,  it  will  answer  in 
lieu  of  better.  We  must  supply  whatever  of  strength  or  sparkle  it 
may  lack  from  our  own  heads  ;  while  the  merry  liquid  itself  shall 
pay  us  back  golden  dreams  to  take  to  bed  with  us,  and  consecrate 
our  pillows  withal." 

"You  forget  the  reckoning  to  be  paid  in  the  morning  with  head- 
aches," said  Celio,  at  last  fairly  infected  with  the  gay  spirits  of  his 
companion,  and  regaining  his  usual  ease  and  self-possession. 

"  No,  by  my  faith !  I  never  forgot  one  in  my  life  ;  they  won't 
be  so  easily  got  rid  of.  A  bad  head-ache  is  a  thousand  times  worse 
than  a  poor  relation  or  a  tiresome  mistress.  You  can  cut  the  one 
and  drown  the  other.     But  a  head-ache — " 

"  Why,  did  you  ever  drown  a  mistress,  Captain  ?  That  must  be 
rare  sport  indeed." 

"  Not  so  rare  as  you  may  imagine,"  said  Earnest,  a  cold  dark 
gleam  passing  swiftly  across  his  face,  and  vanishing  in  the  shadows 
of  the  heavy  curtains  hanging  before  the  httlc  box  in  which  they 
had  installed  themselves.  "  But  come,  let  us  drink.  Here  is  cham- 
pagne ;  indifferent  enough,  as  I  suspect,  by  the  pretentious  appear- 
ance of  the  bottle,  as  well  as  its  too  rosy  liue ;  but  better  than  your 
dull,  heavy  brandy.     Here's  to  friendship,  and  confusion  to  love  !" 


0-    I 

A  NEWSPAi»ER  PROJECT.  47 

"  Love  generally  leads  to  confusion  enough,  I  believe,"  returned 
Celio,  suffering  the  sparkling  beverage  to  play  for  a  bright  instant 
round  his  beautiful  lips  before  he  drank,  and  beginning  to  glow  and 
thrill  with  the  intense  ecstacy  which  champagne  always  produced  in 
his  sensitive  system.  "  But,  Captain  Earnest,  were  you  really  in 
earnest — by  Jove,  puns  seem  to  be  swimming  about  among  the 
bubbles  of  this  champagne ! — were  you  really  in  earnest  about  your 
newspaper  project?  You  know  I  was,  as  I  may  say,  born  in  a  press- 
room, and  wrapped  in  the  blanket  from  an  imperial  press.  My  first 
recollections  of  eating  are  connected  with  printers'  pi,  and  my  earliest 
lessons  in  religion  refer  back  to  the  "  hell"  I  used  to  have  nailed  to 
my  case  in  the  shape  of  an  old  shoe,  into  which  all  battered  and 
broken  type  were  indiscriminately  thrown.  What  is  the  plan  of 
your  publication  ?" 

"  A  capital  one,  my  boy  ;  one  that  has  been  well  considered  and 
cannot  fail  of  success.  I  myself  have  some  little  experience  in  lite- 
rary vagabondizing,  j\nd  have  had  everything  completed  for  several 
months  past,  waiting  for  the  right  sort  of  an  editorial  associate. 
They  are  plenty  enough,  heaven  knows,  and  can  be  bought  by  the 
dozen  for  ten  dollars  and  a  treat  at  an  oyster-cellar." 

'^  As  you  think,  perhaps,  you  are  buying  me.  Captain  Earnest," 
interrupted  Celio,  making  a  motion  to  rise. 

"  No,  boy,"  replied  Earnest,  looking  steadily  into  his  eyes ;  "  or  I 
should  not  have  told  you  to  your  face.  Do  you  take  me  for  a  fool  ? 
No,  no,"  he  continued,  resuming  the  same  unreserved  and  even 
afiectionate  tone  he  had  assumed  in  the  beginning  of  the  conversation ; 
"  No,  you  are  of  a  different  metal,  or  I  am  quite  mistaken.  I  believe 
in  my  soul  you  are  just  the  man  I  want.  How  do  you  stand  in 
respect  to  society  ?  Have  you  the  entree  to  the  fashionable  circles  ?" 

"  Oh  yes,  thanks  to  my  kind  friend  Mrs.  Carleton  ;  she  takes  me 
everywhere,"  said  Celio,  blushing,  he  knew  not  why,  at  the  mention 
of  her  name. 

The  eye  of  Earnest  rested  upon  Celio  for  a  fleeting  instant  with 
snake-like  keenness  ;  then  he  observed  carelessly, 

"  Oh,  that  set,  hey?  Yes,  they  are  well  enough  in  their  way,  but 
we  will  try  and  show  you  something  a  little  different,  by  and  by. 
But  now  for  my  plan  ;  though  I  must  first  exact  from  you  a  promise, 
upon  your  honor,  that  you  will  never  make  any  use  of  what  I  am 
going  to  disclose  to  you  without  my  consent." 

"  I  promise,"  said  Celio,  wondering  to  what  all  this  led. 

"Now  then,"  continued  Earnest,  "  we  shall  soon  understand  one 
another  completely.  You  have,  as  you  tell  me,  been  educated  in  a 
printing-office,  and  are  perfectly  familiar  with  all  the  mysteries  of 
newspaper-making,  from  political  leaders  to  horrible  accidents, 
aggravated  seductions,  and  criticisms  upon  music  and  the  fine  arts. 
I  am  about  now  to  convince  you,  my  dear  friend,  that  you  know 
in  reaUty  nothing  about  newspapers — of  their  philosophy,  the  pur- 
poses for  which  they  are  to  be  used,  the  means  of  carrying  them  on, 


48  CELIO. 

and  the  power  thej  can  be  made  to  exercise.  I'll  wager  a  dozen 
champagne,  my  honest  young  friend,  that  you  imagine  the  principal 
objects  of  a  newspaper  to  be  to  furnish  sound  and  well-written  dis- 
quisitions to  its  readers  on  the  various  topics  of  the  day,  and  tc 
supply  the  news-boys  with  extras  containing  the  latest  news  by 
steam,  ten  minutes  earlier  than  the  rival  establishment  across  the 
way.  In  addition  to  this,  perhaps  you  would  devote  yourself  to  the 
interests  of  some  party,  and  work  early  and  late  to  advance  this  or 
that  set  of  men  to  office,  who  will  be  morally  certain  to  abandon 
you  the  moment  you  have  made  them  successful.  You  are  quite 
mistaken,  my  dear  Celio.  All  these  things  are  merely  the  incidental 
uses  of  newspapers.  The  true  end  and  aim  of  the  Press,  that  mighty 
engine,  &c.  &c. — by  the  way,  you  have  drank  nothing  this  half 
hour.     Let's  crack  another  bottle.     Here's  to  the  Press !" 

"  I  can't  refuse  jou.  to  pledge  you  in  that  sentiment.  Captain, 
but  I  tell  you  fairly  this  is  the  last.  I  do  not  bear  much  wine. 
Besides,  your  conversation  is  sparkling  and  stioiulating  enough." 

"  Thank  you  !  I  see  you  have  learned  how  to  be  excellently 
polite.  Well  then,  the  great  end  and  aim  of  the  Press  is  to  bring 
power  and  fortune  to  those  who  wield  it.  How  many  kinds  of  news- 
papers, now,  do  you  enumerate  ?" 

"  Upon  my  word  it  is  a  branch  of  zoology  in  which  I  am  not  well 
studied.  There  are  the  religious  papers,  the  political  papers,  the 
stupid  papers,  the  evening  papers — but  these  two  are  synonymous — 
the  Sunday  papers,  and — I'm  sure  I  don't  know  how  many  more." 

"  But,  by  Jove  !  I  know  exactly  !"  exclaimed  Earnest,  laughing. 
"  There  are  just  two  kinds  of  newspapers,  and  no  more — the  success- 
ful and  the  unsuccessful.  Now  we  will  have  nothing  to  do  with  the 
latter  class.  They  are  the  convulsive  gasps  of  disappointed  ambition 
or  starving  honesty.  The  first  thing  to  be  accomplished  in  starting 
a  new  paper  is  notoriety.  Now  this  I  can  acquire  at  once,  for  I  have 
the  means  of  obtaining  the  good  editorial  opinion  of  every  paper  in 
the  city.  This  will  cost  perhaps  five  hundred  dollars,  as  I  mean  to 
be  very  liberal,  and  buy  every  newspaper  ninny  at  his  own  valuation. 
After  the  first  eclat  of  our  appearance,  and  we  must  be  sure  that 
our  publication  is  able  and  healthy-looking,  we  can  snap  our  fingers 
in  the  faces  of  the  public  and  of  our  brother  editors.  If  the  latter 
abuse  us,  so  much  the  better,  the  public  will  set  it  down  for  perse- 
cution. Now  then,  for  our  work.  But  I  am  boring  you  1  We  will 
take  some  other  time  to  discuss  these  grave  matters." 

"  You  are  cruel,"  eagerly  cried  Celio,  "  to  pause  an  itetant.  Gro 
on,  if  you  love  me  !" 

"  I  find  you  apt  enough !  Well,  in  the  first  place,  of  what  is 
fashionable  society  composed  in  this  good,  democratic,  and  piou« 
metropolis?" 

'^  Nay,  define  it  yourself." 

"  Well,  then,  listen !  Of  men  who  ha  Ye  made  thcii-  fortunes  by 
overreaching  their  less  lucky  neighbors — by  gambling  and  fatee  pre- 


A   NEWSPAPER   PROJECT.  49 

tences,  which,  practised  on  a  small  scale  bj  a  beggar  to  get  bread, 
would  send  the  perpetrator  to  state  prison.  By  the  most  cold-blooded 
extortion  and  heartless  usuries  that  would  be  repaid  by  a  coat  of  tar 
and  feathers  by  the  mob  if  they  were  made  known;  by  secret  and 
illegal  practices,  such  as  lottery  and  other  swindling  of  that  nature ; 
by  speculations  on  the  starvation  of  the  poor ;  by  banking  without 
capital ;  by  shaving  or  similar-  barbarous  (no  pun  there,  Celio !)  ope- 
rations upon  the  raw  flesh  of  flayed  victims.  These  men,  having 
amassed  by  such  means  fortunes,  or  perhaps  attained  a  show  of  for- 
tune which  gives  them  credit  and  answers  every  purpose — set  them- 
selves up,  one  after  another,  as  aristocrats,  leaders  of  fashion, 
founders  of  a  new  nobility.  Their  fathers  made  shoes,  dug  ditches, 
tended  stables,  sold  pins,  or  made  an  honest  livelihood  in  some  such 
respectable  occupation.  But  neither  dares  expose  his  neighbor's 
origin,  for  he  is,  alas !  aware  of  his  own  ;  and  exposure  from  any 
source  would  be  certain  ruin.  An  upstart  aristocracy  are  your  true 
storks — they  kill  their  companions  as  fast  as  they  are  disabled.  Not 
one  of  these  who  would  not  pay,  and  pay  roundly,  rather  than  be 
exposed.  To  be  made  a  laughing-stock — have  his  flummery  wife 
and  daughters  lose  caste — be  obliged  to  give  up  his  front  seat  and 
his  cushions  at  the  Opera !  Why,  the  very  idea  makes  him  crazy  ! 
Good  Mr.  Editor,  dear  Mr.  Editor,  only  spare  me,  and  anything  you 
wish — here's  my  check  !  Mrs.  Smith  and  the  ladies  have  frequently 
wondered  why  you  do  not  call.  Come- up  next  Thursday  evening  to 
our  little  soiree.  We  shall  have  Pico  and  a  few  musical  friends  ! 
And  then  for  the  women.  How  many  of  the  married  ones  who  are 
not  professed  flirts  and  secret  intriguantes,  or  who,  mismatched  in 
their  youth,  do  not  bestow  the  sighs  and  tears  of  guilty  love  upon 
some  being  who  has  crossed  their  ill-starred  path  like  the  realization 
of  youth's  golden  dream  1  How  many  resist  the  fascination  of  the 
precious  discovery  that,  amid  all  the  folly  and  insanity  and  glittering 
heartlessness  by  which  they  are  surrounded,  they  at  last  love  and 
are  beloved  1  You  turn  pale,  Celio — ah,  I  see  !  You  are  bearing 
unconscious  evidence  of  the  truth  of  what  I  say.  So  you  have 
already  found  your  eidolon?^^ 

"  Captain  Earnest,  you  take  strange  liberties." 

"Now,  are  we  sworn  friends  or  are  we  not?  Don't  let  us  have 
any  more  of  this  nonsense.  If  I  have  unwittingly  touched  a  sore 
place  in  your  own  experience,  I  beg  your  pardon  sincerely.  I  don't 
seek  to  know  your  secrets.  When  you  ask  me  for  a  confidant  I  shall 
be  ready  to  become  a  true  and  faithful  one.  But  you  see  at  once, 
my  dear  friend,  what  a  scope  is  here  ofiered  to  the  genius  of  an 
enterprizing  editor.  Then  there  are  rotten  banks  and  insurance 
offices  without  number  to  be  bolstered  up  or  exposed,  according  to 
the  liberality  of  their  managers  ;  unnecessary  railroads  to  be  advo- 
cated ;  all  sorts  of  new  and  important  schemes  and  inventions  to  be 
lauded  or  decried.  All  this  done  vigorously,  boldly,  and  with  an 
air  of  unfaltering  assurance  and  self-reliance,  is  worth  at  least  aa 


50  OELIO. 

much  as  the  salary  of  the  President.  I  have  said  nothing  of  the 
contributions  to  be  levied  on  foreign  fiddlers,  dancers,  singers,  &c., 
&c.,  who  come  here  to  pick  Yankee  Doodle's  pocket,  and  in  return 
deserve  their  own  to  be  gently  squeezed ;  but  you  will  at  once  see 
the  advantage  of  these  little  perquisites.  So,  I  hope  you  will  be 
ready  to  commence  soon.     The  season  is  ripe  for  our  enterprize." 

Celio  was  excited  by  the  wine  he  had  drank,  by  the  incidents  of 
the  evening,  and  the  rapid  conversation  of  his  companion,  which 
flowed  with  resistless  force  and  seemed  to  fuse  everything  within  its 
influence  into  a  stream  of  molten  brightness,  which  he  guided  at  will. 
Stingmg  under  the  inflictions,  mortifications  and  privations  of  pov- 
erty— proud,  high-spirited,  ambitious — here  was  at  once  an  opening 
for  steady  and  profitable  employment,  which  he  felt  it  almost  impos- 
sible to  resist.  Still,  he  was  shocked  at  the  bold  profligacy  of  the 
plan  of  operations  laid  down  by  Earnest.     He  hesitated. 

"  I  am  afraid  you  are  undergoing  a  vulgar  qualm  of  conscience, 
Celio.  Depend  upon  it,  you  shall  never  be  called  upon  to  say  any- 
thing you  do  not  believe.  I'll  take  all  the  sin,  if  there  be  any,  upon 
my  own  shoulders.     Besides,  our  paper  will  be  just  like  all  the 

others — all  the  successful  ones,  I  mean.     There's  the ,  what 

is  it  but  the  organ  of  the  stock -gamblers  ?  a  set  of  sportsmen  infi- 
nitely more  pernicious  than  the  dealers  in  faro  or  the  keepers  of 
roulette  tables.  Read  the  leading  columns  of  that  paper,  and  you 
can  tell  to  a  certainty  whether  stocks  are  to  go  up  or  down  that  day. 
You  think  you  are  reading  the  most  authentic  particulars  of  the 
news  from  Europe.  No  such  thing  !  You  are  only  conning  over  an 
elaborate  article  prepared  expressly  for  the  purpose  of  raising  or 
depressing  the  price  of  fancy  stocks,  according  as  the  "  bulls"  or 
the  "  bears"  have  paid  the  editor  most  handsomely  for  his  disinter- 
ested  efforts  in  behalf  of  his   country.     The ,  as  of  course 

you  know,  has  achieved  an  immense  fortune  by  pretending  to  be  one 
thing,  and  lying  lustily  but  with  a  sanctimonious  face  for  another. 
It  leeches  the  dropsical  and  plethoric   exchequers  of  our  tract  and 

bible  missionary  societies.     The ,  I  surely  need  not  tell  you, 

is  made  the  mere  tender  of  its  proprietor's  banking  and  other  specu- 
lations ;  and  by  its  judicious  and  uniform  tameness  it  has  become 
necessary  as  an  advertising]^  medium  to  all  classes — a  kind  of  central 
ground  where  .chambermaids  and  quack  doctors,  seamstresses  and 
young  ladies  in  want  of  genteel  board,  meet  without  jostling — where 
everybody  can  see  himself  and  his  wants  in  wretched  print  for 
ten  cents  a  line.  But  enough!  Our  paper  shall  be  no  vulgar 
puffing-machine ;  and,  at  any  rate,  I  will  lay  no  restraint  whatever 
ufbn  you." 

"  May  I  advocate  what  doctrine  I  please?" 

"  Yes,  absolutely." 

"  Take  care  what  you  promise  !  For  instance,  I  am  a  Transcen- 
dentalist." 

*'  So  am  I." 


VALUE    OF  A    WIJTE.  51 

"  An  Associationist." 

"  And  I — belonging  at  present  to  group  No.  1/' 

"  A  Sweclenborgian." 

"Ehem!" 

*' A  Mesmerist." 

"  Oh  J I  go  animal  magnetism." 

"  An  Abolitionist." 

"  Well.     Anything  more  ?" 

"Yes — a  Homoeopathist." 

"  Capital ! — I  hate  boluses.     Go  on." 

"  That  will  do  for  the  present." 

^'  A  pretty  fair  list  for  a  young  gentleman  of  twenty,  I  confess. 
Pray  wliere  did  you  manage  to  pick  up  all  these  precious  relics  of 
the  shipwrecked  vessel  "Progress?"  But  never  mind — you  shall 
have  free  swing  in  the  columns  of  our  new  paper.  You  shall  advocate 
anything  you  please — excepting  always  the  abominable  heresy  ot 
Priessnitz.     Cold  water  is  my  abhorrence." 

"  Well,  I  consent — especially  as  I  really  am  out  of  employment, 
in  debt,  and  already  under  an  obligation  to  you  which  I  see  no  way 
of  repaying." 

"  Nonsense  !   Since  you  have  been  out  of  the it  has  grown 

as  stupid  as  a  prayer-book.  And  speaking  of  money  matters,  here's 
a  trifle  to  bind  our  bargain.  Let  us  now  go  out  and  see  that  the 
town  is  all  right  side  up,  and  to-morrow  we  will  proceed  to  business. 
You  will  find  I  have  got  things  already  into  a  pretty  fair  state." 

The  two  friends  separated.  Captain  Earnest  to  look  after  the 
interests  of  the  other  branches  of  his  somewhat  diversified  business 
operations,  and  Celio  to  a  world  of  dreams,  conjured  up  by  the  wand 
of  the  demon-genius,  Ambition.     An  hour  had  fixed  his  destiny. 


CHAPTER  VII. 


In  which  is  shown  the  value  of  a  wife  in  times   of   trouble, 
AND  IN  which  Mr.  Van  Austerclam  does  not  cut  his  throat. 

The  great  house  of  Carleton  &  Co.  was  closed — but  an  ostenta- 
tious festoon  of  crape  flapping  against  the  shutters  and  concealing 
the  enormous  padlock  that  secured  the  iron  bar,  eff'ectually  checked 
the  sneers,  shrugs,  and  chuckling  congratulations  that  otherwise 
would  have  made  minor  dealers  happy.  True,  it  was  now  the  third 
day  since  the  crape  wreath  had  appeared  on  the  door   of  the  great 


52  CELIO. 

house.  But  some  people  prefer  to  keep  their  dead  above  gi'ound  as  long 
as  possible.  It  was  doubtless  a  foolish  superstition  ;  but  in  cases  of 
this  nature,  public  opinion  has  too  much  delicacy  to  interfere  with 
the  rights  of  individuals.  The  great  house  would  be  open  to-morrow 
— there  could  be  no  doubt  of  it. 

But  there  was  doubt  of  it ;  and  in  fact  the  doubt  came  true.  The 
house  was  not  opened  the  next  day  ;  and  by  ten  o'clock  in  the  morn- 
ing the  whole  street  was  engaged  in  deep  discussion  of  the  extraordi- 
nary circumstance.  Many  began  now  openly  to  sneer  and  shrug 
their  shoulders,  while  all  felt  certain  forebodings  which  none  as  yet 
found  courage  to  express  in  words.  A  few  grew  uneasy  ;  and  when 
any  one  whispered  in  their  hearing  that  the  crape  was  all  gam- 
mon, and  the  whole  affair  a  trick  got  up  to  enable  old  Carleton  to 
get  off,  they  turned  pale  and  red  by  turns,  and  began  talking  eagerly 
and  wildly  of  indifferent  subjects. 

"  Did  you  see  how  white  old  Sevins  got  about  the  gills,  when  I 
expressed  my  suspicions  about  this  being  all  a  trick  ?"  inquired  Mr. 
Pipson  in  a  whisper,  to  his  neighbor. 

*'  Yes — but  what  then  ?  You  don't  suppose  that,  even  if  there  is 
a  trick,  Sevins  has  been  privy  to  it  1" 

"  Privy  to  it !  No  indeed  !  But  can't  you  see  ?  He's  been 
endorsing  for  Carleton  &  Co.  lately,  until  he  has  got  in  up  to  the 
eyes.  If  Carleton  goes — or  is  gone — Sevins  and  half-a  dozen  others 
I  see  over  there  will  follow  in  less  than  ten  days." 

"  But  has  any  of  Carleton  &  Co's.  paper  been  protested?" 

''  None  that  I  can  hear  of ;  but  I  have  ascertained  that  there  is  a 
pretty  large  show  of  drafts  on  Philadelphia  come  back  for  non-accept- 
ance ;  and  if  they  are  not  paid  to-day,  the  thing  is  out." 

"  Is  that  really  so  ?  You  astonish  me.  What  bank,  did  you  say, 
had  those  drafts?" 

"  The  Phenix — they  are  only  for  sixty  thousand,"  continued  Pip- 
son,  in  a  loud  and  mocking  tone,  as  his  friend  rushed  frantically 
do^vn  the  street,  as  if  lie  had  suddenly  caught  sight  of  a  mad  bul  I 
coming  directly  at  him. 

"  Ho,  ho,  ho  !"  chuckled  the  other,  in  a  low  and  peculiar  voice,  as 
he  put  the  palms  of  his  liands  together  and  placing  the  backs  between 
his  knees,  seemed  endeavoring  to  extract  a  few  drops  of  palm  oil, 
by  compound  pressure.  "  He  !  he  !  he  !  How  nicely  the  old  fellow 
has  managed  !  t  predict  some  smashing  times  in  the  street  before 
the  moon  sheds  her  skin."  Having  thus  given  vent  to  that  most 
amiable  of  all  human  qualities — gratification  at  the  misfortunes  of 
others — Mr.  Job  Pipson,  the  shrewd  money-broker,  selected  a  five- 
cent  piece  from  his  clinking  purse,  and  depositing  it  in  his  right-hand 
vest  pocket,  went  to  the  Exchange  Coffee  House  and  called  for  six- 
pence worth  of  oysters  for  lunch. 

The  individual  who  had  manifested  so  much  excitement  at  hearing 
the  Phenix  Bank  and  the  sixty  thousand  dollars  of  protested  drafts 
mentioned,  flew  down  the  street  and  rushed  into  the  Bank  in  a  state 


c^rleton's  note  protested.  53 

of  phrenzy.  A  little  crowd  was  gathered  round  the  counter  in  front 
of  the  receiving  teller,  each  patiently  waiting  his  turn.  The  new- 
comer, however,  elbowed  them  unceremoniously  aside,  and  leaning 
over  the  counter,  muttered. — 

"Is  it  true,  then  ? — are  they  protested  ?" 

"  Good  morning,  Mr.  Van  Austerclam — very  happy  to  see  you," 
responded  the  teller  without  raising  his  busy  eyes;  "  I  will  attend 
to  you  in  a  few  minutes.  Now  Mr.  Nathans,  the  check,  as  you  say, 
was  four  thousand  six  hundred  and" — 

"But  I  must  know  this  instant!"  almost  screamed  the  usually 
phlegmatic  Mr.  Van  Austerclam.  "  My  life  depends  upon  it,  I  tell 
you." 

A  sincere  excitement  always  overawes  those  who  happen  to  be 
cool,  and  the  little  knot  of  customers  instinctively  gave  way,  leaving 
Van  Austerclam  and  the  teller  face  to  face  across  the  counter. 

"  What  were  you  inquiring  about,  Mr.  Van  Austerclam  ?  and  in, 
what  can  I  serve  you  '?" 

"  Tell  me  instantly,  have  the  drafts  of  Carleton  &  Co.,  come 
back  for  non-acceptance  ?" 

The  teller  turned  to  his  desk,  and  taking  down  a  book  half  filled 
with  papers,  began  leisurely  to  look  them  over,  while  the  eyes  of  his 
visitor  glared  like  those  of  a  gambler  whose  last  stake  was  dancing 
on  the  engulfing  wave  of  fortune,  ready  to  disappear  forever. 

"  I  find,  sir,"  at  length  said  the  teller,  in  a  voice  of  the  calmest 
indifference,  "that  two  sight  drafts  of  Carleton  &  Co.,  for  sixty 
thousand  dollars,  endorsed  by  you,  came  back  last  evening  for  non- 
acceptance,  and  that  you  therefore  are  liable  for  the  amount." 

Van  Austerclam  stood  for  a  moment  as  if  transfixed  into  the  statue 
of  despair  ;  then  clenching  his  hands  over  his  forehead,  as  if  to  shut 
out  some  horrid  sight,  he  muttered  between  his  set  teeth,  "  Lost, 
lost,  and  ruined  forever !"  and  passed  with  funeral  step  from  the 
bank. 

It  was  now  high  tide  in  the  street,  and  the  walks  were  crowded  with 
anxious  looking  and  haggard  men,  running  about  eagerly  from  cellar  to 
cellar  and  bank  to  bank,  armed  with  memorandum-books  or  little 
slips  of  papers,  and  seeming  as  if  they  had  just  escaped  from  a  herd 
of  people  driven  by  a  mad  dog.  Every  window  displayed  in  tempt- 
ing profusion  glittering  heaps  of  gold  or  carelessly-disposed  handfulls 
of  bank  bills,  as  if  to  mock  the  necessities  of  those  outside  who  fam- 
ished and  thirsted  for  the  wherewithal  to  meet  requisitions  more 
imperative  than  the  want  of  daily  bread. 

But  Van  Austerclam  saw  nothing  of  the  game  playing  before  him. 
His  stake  was  played  out  and  he  had  no  further  interest  in  any 
thing  he  saw.  The  scene  in  which  he  had  been  so  long  an  actor  had 
passed  away  from  him  as  completely  as  though  it  existed  not.  His 
being  was  elsewhere,  was  on  the  verge  of  an  abyss,  endeavoring  in 
vain  to  escape  the  eontomplation  of  its  own  destruction.  Stalking 
moodily  through  the  crowd,  he  pursued  his  way  up  Broadway,  ap- 


64 


CELIO. 


parentlj  unconscious  of  the  throng  wliich  swept  by  him  m  either 
direction.  Turning  down  one  of  the  splendidly-built  streets  in  the 
upper  part  of  the  city,  he  entered  a  magnificent  house,  and  was  met 
in  the  hall  by  a  coarse,  tawdry-looking  woman,  enveloped  in  a  costly 
cachemire  and  surmounted  by  a  gay  bonnet  whence  swept  a  pennant 
of  gaudy-colored  flowers. 

"  So,  Mr.  Van  Austerclam,  you  have  come  home  at  last,  after 
keeping  me  and  the  girls  waiting  full  two  hours,  when  all  the  best 
things  at  Stewart's  will  be  taken  up,  and  the  side-walk  occupied  with 
carriages,  so  that  we  can't  get  within  a  mile  of  the  entrance.  Where's 
the  money?" 

''  Hav't  got  it !"  growled  the  geiLtleman,  and  passed  up  stairs. 

The  lady  hesitated  a  moment,  undecided  whether  to  go  into  hys- 
terics over  such  astounding  conduct  on  the  part  of  the  most  obedient 
of  husbands,  or  to  follow  him  and  demand  an  explanation.  Like  a 
^hrewd  and  sensible  woman  as  she  was,  she  adopted  the  latter  course. 

She  was  not  an  instant  too  soon.  As  she  burst  open  her  husband's 
study  door,  he  was  standing  in  the  middle  of  the  room  with  a  naked 
razor  in  his  hand  and  the  devil  peeping  out  laughingly  from  his  wild 
eyes.  ^ 

"  Wretch  !"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Van  Austerclam,  fury  flashing  from 
her  very  handsome  and  imperial  eyes  ;  "  how  dare  you  go  to  commit 
suicide  and  leave  me  and  our  children  alone  in  the  wide  world  with- 
out protection  !  I  'spose  you've  been  dabbling  in  them  nasty  cop- 
per-stocks again  and  lost  your  money.  I  wish  they  were  all  copper- 
heads to  bite  every  body  that  meddled  with  'em." 

The  detected  and  guilty  man  submitted  meekly  to  the  conjugal  re- 
buke, and  permitted  his  wife  to  draw  from  him,  though  not  without 
a  great  deal  of  difficulty,  the  secret  of  his  loss  by  the  drafts  of  Carle- 
ton  &  Co.  She  was  a  woman  of  coarse  but  strong  mind,  destitute 
of  conscience  as  of  delicacy  and  feeling  ;  and  her  advice  was  that  Van 
Austerclani  should  forge  checks  on  houses  that  were  yet  safe,  to  the 
amount  of  his  losses  by  Carleton  &  Co.,  and  then  abscond.  It  will 
perhaps  be  satisfactory  to  the  reader  to  know  that  this  advice  was 
punctually  followed  by  the  obedient  Van  Austerclam,  and  thirty 
thousand  dollars  deposited  with  the  amiable  wife,  while  the  husband 
got  safely  on  board  the  steamer  for  Europe. 

Doubtless  many  of  them  will  still  remember  the  announcement  in 
the  daily  papers  of  the  sudden  disappearance  of  Mr.  Van  Austerclam, 
to  the  amazement  of  the  public  in  general  and  his  creditors  in 
particular.  With  their  usual  disposition  for  embellishing  every 
thing  witli  "  ricli  licks,"  the  conscientious  reporters  took  care  to  state 
that  Mr.  Van  Austerclam  took  a  femah^  "  coinpagnon  du  voyage^^^ 
(all  the  e<litors  understand  French)  witli  him.  But  a  ''  Disinterested 
Friend,"  published  an  indignant  denial  the  next  morning,  at  the  same 
time  stating  tliat  Mr.  Van  Austerclam  would  return  in  the  spring— 
and  that  is  the  last  we  have  heard  about  the  matter. 


t>      'y- 


PIPSON's    visit    4o    MRS.    OARLETON.  55 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

Mr.  John  Pipson  continues  his  "  operations."     An  avowal  and 

A    FUNERAL      ENLIVENED    WITH    A    LITTLE    LAW    BUSINESS. 

The  sedate  and  amiable  Mr.  Pipson,  after  punishing  his  short  six- 
pence worth  of  oysters,  walked,  (to  put  himself  into  an  agitation,) 
briskly  to  the  house  of  Mr.  Carleton,  and  rang  gently,  the  bell-handle 
l^eing  soothed  with  crape.  After  several  moments,  the  door  was 
noiselessly  opened  by  a  sleek  and  shining  negro  waiter,  who  held  a 
white  handkerchief  to  his  eyes,  and  blubbered  as  Mr.  Pipson  passed 
by  him  into  the  parlor. — Here  all  was  cold,  gloomy  and  desolate. 
It  was  yet  early  summer,  and  the  air,  impregnated  with  the  perfume 
of  the  conservatory,  was  faint  and  heavy.  Nearly  all  the  furniture 
had  been  removed  from  the  room  ;  and  supported  by  chairs  against 
the  wall  near  the  door,  was  a  coffin.  The  folding-doors  were  nearly 
closed,  but  through  the  crevice  between  them  came  that  most  dismal 
of  all  human  sounds,  the  sobbing  of  woman  for  the  dead.  Pipson 
approached  the  coffin  and  gazed  for  a  moment,  with  an  indefinable 
expression,  upon  the  face  of  the  corpse.  It  was  that  of  an  old  man, 
who  must  have  struggled  hard,  for  the  features  were  still  wreathed  with 
ghastly  wrinkles,  grown  marble  beneath  the  blue  fingers  of  death. 
With  something  between  a  shrug  of  pity  and  a  gesture  of  contempt, 
Pipson  moved  from  the  coffin,  and  opening  the  folding-door,  passed 
into  the  back  parlor.  A  white  hand  was  held  out  to  him,  but  its 
owner  did  not  raise  her  face  from  the  arm  of  the  sofa,  where  it  was 
buried  in  a  drooping  handkerchief.  By  the  lady's  side,  her  face 
buried  in  the  folds  of  her  black  dress,  leaned  a  young  girl.  Pipson 
respectfully  took  the  hand  held  out  to  him,  and  held  it  in  one  of  his 
own,  while  with  the  other  he  drew  a  chair  close  to  the  sofa  and  sat 
down,  sighing  deeply.  Thus  passed  many  minutes  in  silence,  broken 
only  by  the  calm  sobbing  of  the  lady  and  the  spasmodic  weeping  of 
the  girl.     At  length  the  lady  said  : 

"  This  is  kind,  very  kind  of  you,  Mr.  Pipson,  to  visit  us  in  our 
heavy  hour  of  affliction.     But  all  hours  must  henceforth  be  so  to  us." 

"  My  dear  friend,  I  know  you  too  well  to  attempt  offering  any  di- 
version to  your  overwhelming  sorrows — they  become  your  great 
affliction,  and  I  would  not  see  them  less.  But  trust  me  that  time, 
which  blunts  the  keenest  sensibilities  of  life,  conquers  even  the  hor- 
ror of  death.  By  and  by  your  excellent  reason  will  again  resume  her 
sway,  and  then  you  will  thank  the  Creator  for  taking  your  beloved 
husband  to  his  rest — After  all,  our  grief  for  the  dead  is  a  too  selfish 
sorrow.     Life  is  not  so  desirable  a  boon." 

"  You  speak  well,  sir — ^you  who  have  never  had  your  heart-strings 
broken  by  being  torn  from  one  you  loved  better  than  life  itself." 

Pipson  started  and  turned  pale  for  an  instant ;  and  the  white  hand 


66  CELIO. 

he  had  still  continued  to  hold  fell  nerveless  and  flexible  upon  the  night- 
like robes  of  the  mourning  ladj. 

''  Madam,"  said  he  at  length,  but  he  spoke  slowly  and  as  if  with 
difficulty,  "it  is  not  for  mortals  to  read  each  other's  hearts.  It  is 
true  I  have  no  earthly  ties  now — but  I  loved  once,  and  was  rejected. 
That  was  bitterer  far  than  death." 

She  felt  the  terrible  insult  of  these  words,  and  looked  up  through 
her  tears,  calmly,  almost  sternly,  yet  very  sadly.  "  And  is  it,"  said 
she,  "  at  such  a  moment  as  this,  that  for  the  first  time  in  so  many 
years,  Mr.  Pipson  forgets  himself  and  his  promise  to  be  my  friend  1 
Cruel !  cruel !" 

"  And  so  I  am,  as  you  shall  still  confess.  Madam — your  true  and 
unselfish  friend,  if  I  know  my  own  heart.  But  you  yourself  recalled 
a  memory  which  still  stings  me  to  the  soul.  Yet  I  was  wrong  ;  you 
must  forgive  me.  They  say  that  a  friend  always  brings  bad  news  ; 
and  if  that  is  true  I  shall  be  esteemed  one.  I  know  you  will  forgive 
the  apparent  untimeliness  of  what  I  am  going  to  communicate.  It  is 
urgent,  and  will  admit  of  no  delay.  Rouse  yourself  and  recall  all 
your  strength  of  mind — for  you  will  need  it.  Yet  it  is  better  that 
the  news  should  come  from  a  devoted  friend  than  to  be  first  heard 
from  careless  and  perhaps  insulting  lips." 

She  looked  up  with  wild  and  wondering  eyes.  "  What  do  you 
mean?     Go  on — I  listen." 

"  It  is  my  melancholy  duty  to  inform  you  that  Mr.  Carleton, 
whose  sudden  death  we  are  now  mourning,  had  been  for  several 
months  engaged  deeply  and  desperately  in  speculations,  all  of  which 
turned  our  disastrously,  and  he  was  utterly  and  irretrievably  ruined. 
I  know  how  proud  and  honorable  a  heart  he  had  ;  and  I  can  scarcely 
doubt  that  tlic  knowledge  of  this  frightful  fact  exerted  a  great  in- 
fluence in  bringing  on  the  sudden  attack  which  carried  him  away." 

Mrs.  Carleton  remained  for  several  minutes  in  utter  silence — not 
even  her  breathing,  but  now  so  sobbing  and  convulsive,  could  be 
heard.  She  had  leaned  back  on  the  sofa,  and  her  face  grew  white 
and  hard  as  marble.  Pipson  thought  she  had  fainted  ;  and  Nina, 
who  had  been  listening  with  a  look  of  mingled  terror  and  amazement 
gprang  to  Mrs.  Carleton's  side,  and  clasping  her  head  caressingly, 
exclaimed — 

"  Mama,  mama,  speak  to  me  !" 

The  lady  gently  returned  the  embrace  of  the  beautiful  girl ;  and 
whispermg  a  few  words  in  her  ear,  rose  with  dignity,  and  stood  di- 
rectly in  front  of  Pipson.  The  girl  glided  silently  from  the  room; 
and  then  Mrs.  Carleton  spoke. 

"  Mr.  Pipson,"  said  she,  slowly  and  sadly,  yet  with  a  kind  of 
proud  bitterness,  "  you  have  chosen  an  unfortunate  time  to  make 
your  cruel  announcement.  I  see  by  the  ill-suppressed  joy  in  your 
eyes  that  what  you  liave  said  of  Mr.  Carleton's  afi'airs  is  true,  and 
that  I  am  a  beggar." 

"Oh,  madam,  how  can  you  use  such  a  word,  while  I " 


PIPSOn's    interview  with  MRS.   CARLETON.  57 

**  Nay,  interrupt  me  not.  I  know  you,  and  can  guess  your  errand. 
My  noble  and  unsuspecting  husband  had,  during  his  late  ill  health, 
entrusted  much  of  his  business  to  your  hands,  and  it  would  be  strange  if 
you  had  not  provided  for  estabhshing  your  own  power  in  this  dread- 
ful extremity.  Tell  me,  then,  now,  even  now,  in  the  presence  of 
my  yet  unburied  husband  and  protector,  what  are  your  claims.  Let 
me  know  the  extent  of  my  situation  at  once,  and  let  all  the  terrors 
*nd  calamities  of  my  life  be  crowded  into  this  miserable  hour." 

"  My  dear  Mrs.  Carleton,"  said  Mr.  Pipson,  in  the  same  whining, 
insolent  tone  he  used  when  depreciating  the  value  of  a  note  he  was 
about  shaving — '^  you  take  altogether  too  serious  a  view  of  the  sub- 
ject. It  is  true  that  my  respected  and  lamented  friend  Mr.  Carle- 
ton  did,  before  his  death,  borrow  a  considerable  sum  of  money  from 
me,  for  which  he  gave  me  what  is  vulgarly  termed  a  chattel  mortgage 
on  his  furniture — the  house  and  the  rest  of  the  property  having  been 
previously  mortgaged  to  a  house  that  is  now  taking  steps  to  foreclose 
and  enter  upon  possession.  But  perhaps  we  had  better  postpone  the 
discussion  of  this  subject  for  the  present.     Some  other  time " 

"  No,  no — now  ;  at  once  and  forever.  I  could  not  endure  to  live 
one  day  in  suspense  as  to  my  fate.  What  is  the  amount  of  this  claim  ? 
Does  it  cover  all?" 

''  To  tell  you  the  truth,  my  dear  Mrs.  Carleton,  it  does.  But  I 
have  no  doubt  we  shall  be  able  to  manage  the  affair  to  our  mutual 
satisfaction.  I  have  a  proposal  to  make,  which  I  think  you  cannot, 
upon  due  reflection,  but  find  agreeable  and  every  way  conducive  to 
your  best  interests." 

The  haughty  woman,  whose  sense  of  the  insulting  character  of  this 
visit  had  for  the  moment  almost  triumphed  over  her  grief,  rose  sudden- 
ly as  if  about  to  put  an  end  to  the  interview,  but  checking  herself,  as 
by  a  master-effort,  she  resumed  her  seat,  saying  simply — 

"  Well,  Mr.  Pipson,  what  is  your  proposal  ?" 

''  Ah,  now  you  are  yourself  again,  my  dear  madam,  and  your  usual 
good  sense  becomes  distinguished.  I  was  about  respectfully  and  in 
the  most  delicate  manner  to  suggest  that  this  matter  can  be  at  once 
and  satisfactorily  arranged.  This  house  and  furniture  are  still 
yours,  madam.  I  have  possessed  my3felf  of  the  mortgage  on  the 
house,  and  you  need  fear  no  disturbance  from  any  quarter.  I  beg 
you  to  consider  it  as  entirely  your  own  as  ever." 

Mrs.  Carleton  looked  at  the  man  with  her  large,  clear  eyes,  whose 
pure  light  seemed  to  penetrate  to  Mr.  Pipson's  very  soul — for  he  co- 
lored and  turned  uneasily  in  his  chair,  and  I  believe  absolutely  trembled 
with  some  indefinable  emotion. 

''  And  what  is  the  condition  of  this  unlocked  for  and  undeserved 
goodness,  Mr.  Pipson '?" 

"  Nay,  madam — I  did  not  intend  to  speak  of  that  at  present — in- 
deed, not  for  a  very  long  time.  But  you  know  that — that  is,  how 
much — I  have  ever  loved  you.  No,  by  heaven  !"  and  he  changed 
his  tone  ;  and  seeming  carried  away  by  some  irresistible  excitement. 


58  CELIO. 

which  for  the  instant  made  him  almost  beautiful,  he  suddenly  and 
passionately  threw  himself  at  the  lady's  feet.  "  No,  by  heaven, 
Adelaide  !"  cried  he,  in  piercing  accents,  like  tlioseof  a  soul  plead- 
ing its  admission  to  heaven,  "  you  do  not  and  cannot  know  how  I 
love  and  worship  you.  This  hour  has  been  the  one  dream  of  my 
Ufe.  For  it  I  have  patiently  waited  through  years  of  tortui*e  and 
a  hell  of  jealous  pangs.  For  this  I  have  toiled  and  striven  and 
hardened  my  heart  to  all  the  world,  and  amassed  wealth — for  I  am 
rich,  oh,  Adelaide  !  rich  beyond  your  wildest  dreams.  And  see — 
now  I  lay  it  all  before  you,  and  give  you  the  means  for  shining  in 
unrivaled  splendor  in  the  world  that  worships  you.  Take  time  to 
think,  dear  Adelaide — I  ask  nothing  now.  Your  grief  is  sacred,  and 
I  would  not  have  disturbed  it  but  at  your  command.  Oh,  tell  me-^ 
am  I  to  die  or  am  I  to  live  1     Give  me   one  ray  of  hope  !" 

Mrs.  Carleton  listened  to  this  astounding  and  audacious  declaration 
with  the  listless  helplessness  of  one  already  overwrought  in  heart  and 
brain  with  sorrowful  excitement,  and  utterly  crushed  by  the  weights 
of  some  new  and  unexpected  blow.  When  Pipson  had  finished,  he 
looked  up  from  the  groveling  attitude  into  which  he  had  thrown  him- 
self, and  almost  began  to  hope — so  slowly  did  she  recover  herself. 

At  length  she  rose  ;  and  grasping  Mr.  Pipson  by  the  shoulder, 
with  a  strength  that  made  him  shrink,  she  led  him  through  the  fold- 
ing doors  and  up  to  the  very  coffin  of  her  dead  husband.  She  pointed 
steadily  to  the  face  of  the  corpse,  and  looking  Pipson  full  in  eyes, 
said,  very  slowly  and  solemnly — 

'^  Mr.  Pipson,  by  the  soul  of  that  noble  man,  whose  memory  you 
have  but  now  so  foully  outraged,  aud  by  the  grave  that  soon  is  to 
enclose  him,  I  swear  to  you  that  I  utterly  loathe  and  hate  you — that 
I  have  ever  suspected  you  of  being  that  which  I  now  know  you — a 
miserable,  pitiable  wretch.  Go  !  To-day  I  attend  my  husband's 
body  to  its  final  resting  place  :  to-morrow  morning  you  may  take 
peaceable  possession  of  your  house.  Go  !"  and  she  made  an  imper- 
ious motion  with  her  arm  towards  the  door  ;  while  her  eyes  fell  sadly 
upon  the  dead  face  in  the  coffin,  and  an  expression  of  tenderness  and 
celestial  sorrow  gradually  stole  over  her  beautiful  features. 

Mr.  Pipson  did  not  linget  ;  but  as  he  passed  out  of  the  room  he 
bestowed  one  glance  upon  the  apparently  unconscious  lady,  into  which 
so  much  of  rage,  malignity  and  hatred  were  concentrated  that  she 
seemed  to  feel  it  and  to  grow  sick  beneath  its  deadly  influence.  And 
yet,  one  look  or  accent  of  love  would  have  changed  that  demon  into 
the  gentlest  and  tendernest  of  human  beings--for  he  loved  and  worship- 
ed, in  sincerity  and  truth. 

Long  and  earnestly  gazed  that  beautiful  living  woman  upon  the 
ghastly  dead  corpse  that  lay  there  so  quietly  before  her  ;  until  at 
kist  tears  came  swiftly  brimming  into  her  eyee  ivnd  raining  upon  her 
husband's  face. 

"  Noble  soul,"  said  she,  in  a  low  and  prayerful  voice,  "  look  down 
upon  her  whom  thou  lovedet  so  woll,  and  forgive  her  that  she  was  so 
unworthy  of  thee !" 


A  FIGHT   WITH  THE  TIGER.  .">n 

Now  the  friends  began  to  come  in,  and  the  sad,  desolate  ostenta- 
tion of  conventional  grief  commenced — to  me  the  mournfulest  and 
most  painful  sorrow  of  all  that  is  entailed  by  death.  Indeed,  I  have 
from  childhood  ceased  to  mourn  for  those  who  die.  The  grave  is 
none  the  less  the  gate  to  a  fairer  and  more  harmonious  world,  because 
my  eyes  are  not  fine  and  clear  enough  to  penetrate  beyond  its  dark- 
ness. I  mourn  only  for  the  living  who  live  unloved.  For  in  heaven 
even  they  will  meet  their  congenial  souls — and  it  is  so  long  and  drea 
ry  waiting  ! 

But  the  gloomy  pageant  came  and  went,  and  was  over.  The  pale 
and  weeping  widow  had  borne  herself  calmly  and  bravely  through  all 
the  accumulated  trials  pressed  into  the  last  few  days — but  now  her 
stout  heart  had  given  way,  and  she  flung  herself  prone  upon  her  bed, 
and  groaned  aloud  in  the  greatness  of  her  agony.  The  bitterness 
of  death  and  life,  mingled  to  poison  in  her  heart,  flowed  forth  in 
tears  and  passionate  exclamations  of  childlike  despair. 

Adelaide  Carleton,  however,  was  not  a  nature  long  to  succomb  or 
shrink  appalled  beneath  the  severest  trial.  Her  aspiring  soul  had 
long  since  learned  to  comprehend  the  universal  and  almost  hopeless 
disorder  that  reigns  throughout  the  earth,  and  to  feel  that  happiness 
was  only  to  be  looked  for  in  another  existence,  while  mankind  con- 
tinued blind  and  selfish  here.  She  therefore  accepted  the  part  al- 
lotted her,  with  cheerful  resignation. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

A  FIGHT  WITH    THE    TIGER. HOW  TO  TAME  WILD  ANIMALS,   WITH  A 

BRIEF  LESSON  ON  BETTING  AT  FARO. 

It  was  now  somewhat  after  midnight. .  The  sky  had  clouded  over 
and  a  thunder-storm  was  germinating  in  the  far  south-west,  sending 
flashes  of  incipient  vitality  occasionally  across  the  sky,  like  the 
glances  of  an  eye  looking  forth  to  survey  the  scene  upon  which  it  is 
about  to  enter.  From  the  house  of  Madame  Persiflage,  Captain 
Earnest  and  Merivale  proceeded  arm  in  arm  down  Broadway,  both 
preserving  an  unbroken  silence  ;  for  the  scene  of  the  last  few  hours 
had  been  of  too  exciting  a  character,  and  had  left  too  vivid  an  im- 
pression on  the  minds  of  the  young  men  to  allow  them  a  disposition 
to  speak. 

Passing  the  end  of  the  Park  and  by  the  City  Hall  gate,  they 
turned  down  a  short  broad  street  lined  on  either  side  with  trees,  and 


60  CELIO 

terminating  in  a  beautiful  green  park,  upon  which  the  night  rested 
with  that  appearance  of  infinite  quiet  and  repose  so  characteristic  c^ 
a  forest  in  the  dark.  A  few  steps  from  Broadway  brought  them  to 
a  well-built  aristocratic-looking  mansion,  up  the  steps  of  which 
Earnest  sprung  and  touched  the  bell.  It  was  answered  directly, 
and  a  well-dressed  ci^^l-looking  yellow  man  made  his  appearance, 
requesting  to  know  the  gentlemen's  business.  He  instantly,  how- 
ever, recognized  Earnest,  and  making  a  low  bow,  suffered  both  him 
and  his  friend  to  pass  in  without  further  obstruction.  The  front 
parlor,  into  which  the  friends  entered,  was  fitted  up  in  a  style  of 
quiet  but  luxurious  elegance,  the  wall  being  adorned  with  pictures, 
many  of  them  of  genuine  value  and  evidently  from  the  pencils  of 
masters  in  their  art.  On  the  mantel  stood  a  profusion  of  those 
exquisite  filagree  ornaments,  for  which  the  Parisian  artizans  are  so 
celebrated,  interspersed  with  statuettes  artistically  fashioned,  and 
retaining  much  of  the  indescribable  genius  with  which  the  sculptor 
knows  how  to  invest  the  marble. 

But  the  most  striking  establishment  of  this  spacious  and  elegant 
apartment  was  a  magnificently-appointed  table,  filling  two-thirds  of 
the  centre  of  the  room,  and  loaded  with  a  wonderful  variety  of  the 
choicest  and  most  delicate  dishes,  which  the  genius  of  French  cookery 
had  summoned  from  the  common-place  materials  of  the  grocery  and 
butcher's  stall.  Everything  was  arranged  with  the  eye  of  an  artist, 
and  with  a  view  to  symmetry  and  picturesqueness  of  effect  that  is 
60  rarely  seen  and  so  much  talked  about.  It  was,  in  short,  the 
science  of  eating  reduced  to  a  beautiful  poem.  Around  this  table 
at  irregular  intervals  were  seated  some  half-dozen  individuals  of 
various  styles  of  face,  figure,  dress  and  general  appearance.  All 
however  were  evidently  of  the  better  classes  of  society,  and  an  air 
of  ease  and  well-bred  politeness  was  observable  in  each.  They 
appeared  to  be  every  one  eating  on  Ids  own  hook,  as  none  of  the 
usual  conventionalities  of  the  dining-table  were  observed,  and  each 
guest  nodded  to  the  waiter  and  pointed  quietly  to  whatever  he 
required.  Wines  there  were  of  every  variety  and  in  the  greatest 
abundance,  from  the  grateful  and  delicately  voluptuous  Champagne, 
gleaming  like  bottled  sunshine  through  its  dark  green  prison,  to  the 
stout  and  stalwart  Port,  squaring  itself,  Jolm-Bullwise,  upon  its  broad 
feet,  and  rubbing  complacently  its  full  round  belly. 

Without  more  than  exchanging  the  merest  ordinary  civilities  with 
the  guests  in  the  room,  Captain  Earnest  and  his  friend  seated 
themselves  without  ceremony  at  the  table,  and  by  way  of  passing 
the  time  and  showing  tliat  they  were  familiar  with  the  place,  pre- 
tended to  eat,  although,  as  may  well  be  supposed,  thrir  appetites 
were  none  of  the  keenest.  After  having  popped  a  bottle  of 
Renauid  &  Francois  Champagne,  a  portion  of  which  they  sipped 
very  leisurely,  they  arose  and  sauntered  into  the  other  parlor, 
where  a  group  of  souie  thirty  or  forty  individuals  was  gathered 
about  a  "  long  low  black"  table,  in  tlie  centre  of  which  was  a  cloth 


THE  LESSON.  Gl 

containing,  fastened  by  the  backs,  all  the  cards  of  the  "full  deck.*' 
At  one  end  of  the  table,  sat  a  little  crooked  man  with  fingers  like 
eagle's  claws,  who  held  a  tin  box  before  him,  from  which  he  myste- 
riously slipped  one  card  at  a  time,  lying  it  on  one  of  the  two  piles 
which  grew  impartially  by  alternate  distribution  beneath  his  hand. 
At  the  dealing  of  each  card  a  slight  commotion  went  round  tlie 
table,  and  a  great  change  of  places  was  observed  among  sundry 
heaps  of  large  ivory  buttons — some  white,  some  red — lying  promis- 
cuously about  on  the  stationary  cards  on  the  table.  No  money  was 
seen,  except  now  and  then  when  one  of  the  players  became  "broke," 
and  passed  a  V  or  an  X  to  the  dealer,  receiving  its  equivalent  in 
buttons.  The  white  ones  stood  for  a  dollar  a  piece,  and  the  red 
ones  five,  so  that  a  man  might  readily  lose  or  win  a  handsome  sum 
of  money  in  a  short  time,  by  this  dangerous  species  of  the  game  of 
button. 

Noiselessly  and  earnestly  the  game  went  on — the  pallid,  eager, 
dull,  beaming,  reckless  and  despairing  faces  gathered  round  the 
table,  presenting  a  panorama  of  human  passions  painful  yet  inter- 
esting to  contemplate.  This  is  the  inner  shrine  of  the  temple  of 
Mammon,  and  its  devotees  are  actuated  solely  by  the  simple,  undis- 
guised, almost  demoniac  love  of  money.  No  scene  nor  phase  of 
unadulterated  human  selfishness  is  below  or  beyond  this.  The 
robber  who  stabs  his  victim  to  get  at  his  pocket,  the  incendiary  who 
fires  a  city  in  the  hope  of  spoils,  is  not  more  the  slave  of  lustful 
gold,  than  that  gray-headed  sinner,  or  that  bright-eyed,  nervous 
youth  who  stands  leaning  over  the  faro  table  watching  every  card  as 
if  the  destiny  of  his  immortal  soul  hung — and  so  perhaps  it  does — 
upon  the  issue. 

For  some  time  Earnest  and  his  friend  watched  the  game  slightly 
and  without  any  intention  to  mingle  in  it.  They  had  purposely 
kept  themselves  at  the  outer  edge  of  the  circle  surrounding  the  table, 
and  Earnest  had  not  been  recognized,  though  he  was  evidently  at 
home  in  the  house  and  must  have  been  well  known  there.  When 
they  first  entered,  the  game  did  not  seem  to  be  in  one  of  its  more 
interesting  phases,  the  bets  being  unusually  light,  and  the  winnings 
and  losings  being  distributed  with  a  smile  and  a  gesture  of  indiffer- 
ence, which  seemed  to  say :  This  is  mere  child's  play ;  we  are 
waiting  for  something  exciting  to  turn  up.  In  a  few  hours.  Earnest 
and  Merivale  had  simultaneously  their  attention  drawn  to  a  hand- 
some and  intelligent  young  man,  evidently  a  novice  in  the  business, 
and  who  laid  down  his  stakes  with  an  air  of  trembling  uncertainty, 
and  watched  the  dealing  of  the  cards  with  a  feverish  anxiety,  which, 
to  the  practised  eye  of  Captain  Earnest,  told  plainly  of  the  tempted 
youth  sporting  with  money  not  his  own,  and  probably  risking  his 
honor  and  virtue  in  the  desperate  attempt  to  retrieve  some  fearful 
loss,  the  contemplation  of  which  made  his  soul  shudder. 

Here,  O  young  man !  whosoever  thou  art,  who  hast  taken  the  first 
step  in  that  worst  and  most  awful  crime  of  gambling,  pause  and 


i)Z  CELIO. 

listen  !  It  is  not  yet  too  late.  There  is  a  way  and  a  sure  way  in 
wldch  thou  canst  roll  from  thy  heart  the  horrid  load  of  guilt  and 
humiliation  and  despair  that  is  crushing  thee  to  the  earth.  Thou 
hast  fallen.  Thou  hast  wasted  jiot  merely  that  which  was  thine  own, 
hut  hast  already  added  to  the  crime  of  gambling  that  of  treachery 
and  fraud  upon  thy  employer.  Yet,  for  all  that,  it  is  not  too  late. 
Another  day,  another  hour,  another  moment,  and  perhaps  it  will  be 
too  late  forever  in  this  world.  Now  thy  destiny  is  yet  in  thine  own 
hands.  Oh  !  as  thou  regardest  thy  souPs  peace,  thy  mother's  pangs, 
thy  father's  blessing,  and  thy  future  salvation,  pause  and  listen  to 
my  advice.  The  hope  of  better  luck  by  which  to  retrieve  that  which 
you  have  lost  is  utterly,  utterly  futile.  Never  indulge  it  for  a 
second.  It  will  lead  to  irretrievable  ruin  and  dismay.  The  wily 
cheats  who  have  brought  you  thus  far  upon  the  road  of  guilt  have 
accomplished  their  end.  They  have  occasionally  permitted  you 
perhaps  to  win.  It  was  not  you  who  won,  it  was  simply  they  who 
suffered  it.  But  the  purpose  of  their  doing  so  is  now  accomplished ; 
they  feel  sure  that  the  fish  is  caught :  that  the  barb  is  deep  through 
and  through  his  vitals,  and  all  occasion  for  further  dissimulation  is 
over.  Every  dollar  y  ^U  now  risk — risk,  did  I  say  1  it  is  not  risk — 
every  dollar  you  now  lay  upon  that  table  is  the  offering  of  a  fool,  to 
a  remorseless,  unscrupulous  gang  of  robbers,  who  bo  far  from  being 
pacified  by  the  tributes  of  their  disciples  and  victims,  only  feel  their 
appetite  increase  by  what  it  feeds  on.  Those  cards  in  that  innocent 
looking  tin-box  are  the  mere  instruments  upon  which  that  cunning 
knave  plays  a  certain  and  infallible  tune.  Not  more  completely 
under  the  guidance  of  his  subtle  fingers  and  the  control  of  his  crea- 
tive genius  is  the  violin  of  the  Norwegian  enchanter  than  that  little 
box  and  those  square  slips  of  paper  are  under  the  perfect  manage- 
ment of  the  brain  and  thumb  and  finger  of  that  little  crooked  man 
with  hands  like  eagle's  talons,  who  sits  crouched  in  his  wide  leatliern 
chair  at  the  head  of  the  table. 

But  I  said  that  you  may  yet  be  saved.  Quit  this  poisonous  place 
and  go  to  your  sleepless  couch ;  wlicn  the  morning  wakes  find  out 
your  wronged  and  defrauded  employer ;  tell  him  plainly,  frankly, 
calmly,  all ;  keep  nothing  from  him  ;  disguise  nothing,  neither  your 
temptation,  nor  your  weakness,  nor  your  dreadful  fall.  If  he  be 
not  the  last  man  of  a  thousand  men  he  will  forgive  you,  receive  you 
back  into  his  confidence,  trust  you  and  love  you  more  than  ever ; 
because  he  will  feel  that  such  is  the  course  dictated  not  merely  by 
liumanity,  but  by  good  policy.  Now  indeed  ho  knows  you — your 
weakness  and  your  strength.  For  the  strength  whicJi  can  confess  a 
criminal  act  is  more  than  a  match  for  the  weakness  whicli  led  you 
to  commit  it.  But  even  should  your  reception  be  different,  should 
you  be  cast  off  and  abandoned,  you  need  not  despair.  Vou  have  lost 
but  one  friend  whom  you  no  longer  deserved,  anid  you  should  accept 
that  fate  patiently  as  a  feeble  putiishmcnt  for  a  monstrous  crime, 
and   struggle   pati^mtly  and  cheerfully  and  hopefully  for  a  better 


GAME    OF    FARO.  Dd 

time  when  you  may  recommence  the  game  of  life  under  fairer  skies 
and  more  favorable  auspices.  The  lesson  you  have  learned  is  worth 
more  than  place  or  salary,  or  friends,  or  even  reputation — ^for  it  has 
taught  you  to  know  and  be  master  of  yourself. 

Gradually,  the  young  man  whom  Earnest  and  his  friend  had  been 
watching  grew'  evidently  more  excited,  and  increased  the  amount  of 
his  stakes  at  every  loss.  He  was  now  betting  what  is  called  heavily 
— that  is,  staking  from  ten  to  fifty  and  a  hundred  dollars  upon  a 
card  ;  and  one  could  see  by  the  wavering  glimmer  of  his  eye  and 
the  frightful,  vacant  look,  like  a  temporary  insanity,  that  now  and 
then  shot  across  his  face,  that  he  was  losing  all  control  of  himself, 
and  becoming  reckless  under  the  lashing  of  some  ungovernable 
emotion.  The  fiend  of  gambling  was  roused  from  the  ocean  of  his 
soul,  and  his  whole  being  foamed  and  roared  in  the  agony  of  the 
furious  storm.  It  was  evident  that  the  game  he  was  playing  could 
not  last  long  ;  and  as  he  held  a  hundred  dollar  bill  in  his  hand 
ready  to  lay  it  upon  the  table,  Earnest  quietly  moved  round  the 
circle  and  whispered  a  word  in  the  young  man's  ear.  He  paused  a 
moment,  drew  back  his  hand,  passed  the  back  of  it  across  his  brow, 
and  then  laid  down  his  money  upon  an  entirely  different  part  of  the 
table  from  that  on  which  he  had  been  operatin'g  during  the  whole 
evening. 

"  Ace,  red,"  said  lue  little  crooked  man,  in  a  dry,  monotonous, 
husky  voice,  and  the  young  man  had  won  !  He  looked  across  the 
table  and  caught  the  eye  of  Earnest  fastened  intently  upon  his. 
Seeming  to  understand  that  he  had  found  an  unexpected  friend  who 
could  relieve  him  from  his  horrible  position,  a  light  broke  over  his 
countenance  and  he  appeared  instinctively  to  comprehend  what 
Earnest  wished  to  convey  to  him.  He,  therefore,  as  if  in  obedience 
to  the  intimation  he  had  received,  withdrew  his  original  stake,  suf- 
fering that  which  he  had  won  to  remain  upon  the  same  card. 

"  Ace,  red,"  said  the  dealer,  in  the  same  dry,  husky,  monotonous 
tone  :  and  the  stranger  had  won  again  !  / 

By  this  time  it  was  evident  to  the  crowd  of  spectators,  most  of 
whom  had  now  ceased  to  bet  and  were  watching  the  development  of 
the  well-known  game,  which  they  saw  on  foot,  of  plucking  a  new 
pigeon,  that  something  was  going  forward,  "  not  contained  in  the 
small  bills,"  and  a  marked  sensation  went  through  the  crowd.  The 
dealer,  too,  seemed  to  have  had  some  vitality  infused  into  his  with- 
ered frame,  and  looking  up  from  his  employment  and  casting  a  rapid 
eye  round  the  table,  he  instantly  recognized  the  calm,  placid  face  of 
Earnest,  who  seemed  to  be  merely  looking  on,  an  unconscious  spec- 
tator of  the  scene. 

But  the  dealer  knew  better  ;  and  gathering  up  his  buttons  and 
bank  bills  and  gold,  he  thrust  them  into  a  little  tin  safe,  which  he 
locked,  and  taking  it  in  his  hand,  said  : 

"  The  game,  gentlemen,  is  discontinued  for  this  evening." 

"  How  is  this,  sir'?"  impatiently  exclaimed  the  young  gambler  in 


64  CELIO. 

whose  favor  luck  seemed  to  be  about  turning.  "  I  demand  my 
revenge.  I  have  lost  nearly  ten  thousand  dollars  at  this  bank  the 
last  three  evenings.  I  demand  of  you,  gentlemen,  whether  I  have 
not  a  right  that  the  game  should  be  continued." 

"  Yes,  yes,  yes,  by  all  means ;  that  is  only  fair,"  was  muttered 
by  several  voices  round  the  table. 

"  Gentlemen,"  said  the  dealer,  rising  and  sending  a  keen,  steel- 
like glance  round  the  circle,  ^'  I  suppose  you  will  permit  us  to  manage 
our  business  in  our  own  way.  The  game  is  discontinued  for  this 
evening,"  and  he  bowed  politely   and  was  about  to  leave  the  room. 

He  had  not  more  than  half  reached  the  door,  however,  before  the 
hand  of  Merivale  was  lightly  yet  firmly  laid  upon  the  little  man's 
shoulder.  ''I  think,"  said  he,  ''that  you  must  be  mistaken,  or, 
perhaps,  joking.  It  surely  cannot  be  your  intention  to  deprive  the 
company  of  the  pleasure  of  a  quiet  game  so  early  in  the  evening." 

The  man  answered  him  gruffly,  "  No  more  play  to-night." 

''  But  I  say  there  is  play  to-night,"  replied  Merivale  slowly,  but 
a  little  fiercely ;  "  and  look  well  to  yourself  that  the  game  that  is 
to  be  played  shall  not  be  something  a  little  less  agreeable,  perhaps, 
tlian  faro.     Do  you  mark  me?" 

"Who  arejou?"  inquired  the  dealer,  in  a  voice  half  insolence 
and  half  trepidation. 

"  I  am  a  man  and  a  gentleman,  I  hope ;  but  that  can  be  nothing 
to  you.  What  I  demand  is  that  you  resume  your  seat  at  that  table 
and  recommence  your  game." 

''You  demand?" 

"  Yes,  I  demand  ;  and  see  that  you  obey,  and  that  instantly." 

The  man  hesitated  a  moment  and  looked  round  the  room  as  if  in 
search  of  his  associates  or  some  description  of  assistiince,  and  then 
made  a  sudden  and  quick  movement  as  if  to  escape  the  grasp  of  his 
uncomfortable  acquaintance.  But  the  latter  was  out  of  the  (piestion. 
It  would<Je  as  easy  for  the  iron  to  escape  the  vice  in  which  it  is  held. 
After  ^  Tnoment  of  further  hesitation,  he  looked  up  and  saw  the 
attention  of  the  whole  company  directed  upon  him,  and  saw  also  that 
the  public  opinion  of  the  place  was  against  him.  He  likewise,  at  the 
same  moment,  encountered  tlie  impassive  eye  of  Earnest  fixed  upon 
hrm  with  an  expression  which  seemed  at  once  to  settle  the  question. 
He  limped  back  to  the  table  and  the  game  was  resumed. 

In  the  changing  of  places  incident  to  this  little  interruption,  Ear- 
nest had  accidentally  placed  himself  beside  the  young  gambler,  who 
furtively  glanced  athim  before  making  each  bet,  and  seemed  so  well 
to  divine  what  Earnest  would  have  told  him  that  he  continued  to 
win  stake  after  stake,  until  a  buzz  and  a  murmur  ran  round  the 
room  that  the  bank  was  in  danger.  The  excitement  at  the  table  was 
tremendous,  and  it  became  almost  actually  sublime  to  watch  the 
play  of  the  selfish  human  passions  wreaking  tliemselves  in  sympathy 
over  the  game  played  by  another.  There  is  a  comnmnity  of  feeling 
as  well  as  of  interest  among  the  injured — such  all  the  frequenters  of 


/ 


i 


REFLECTIONS,  65 

the  gambling-table  are — which  leads  them  to  hail  with  inexpressible 
joy  any  slight  reverse  which  the  bank  may  encounter.  With  them, 
as  with  the  lamented  Gen.  Jackson,  the  bank  is  a  *'  monster''  beneath 
whose  teeth  and  claws  they  themselves  have  frequently  and  deeply 
Buffered.  And  therefore  it  is  an  indescribable  gratification  to  see  it 
receive  now  and  then  a  hearty  blow  from  some  luckier  antagonist. 
The  bank,  too,  usually  so  aristocratic  and  so  insolent,  like  most  other 
banks,  when  it  begins  to  feel  the  consequences  of  a  bad  run  of  luck, 
grows  suddenly  paralysed  and  seems  to  be  no  longer  able  to  make 
use  of  even  its  most  reliable  and  oft-tried  resources.  It  was  in  vain 
that  the  dealer  shuffled  and  re-shuffled,  and  cut  and  cut  again,  and 
adjusted  the  little  mysterious  springs  and  contrivances  of  his  tin  box 
— in  vain  he  swore  at  the  cards  and  called  for  new  packs.  Package 
after  package  was  opened,  yet  all  turned  out  exactly  alike.  The 
devil  seemed  for  once  to  have  deserted  his  favorke  child  in  his  darling 
profession.  And  as  the  clock  in  old  St.  Paul's  spire  tolled  three, 
the  young  gambler's  eye  lit  with  pride  and  triumph,  and  brimming 
over  with  an  inexpressible  gratitude  beautiful  to  behold,  he  announced 
that  his  losses  were  recovered  and  that  he  was  a  man  again.  He 
turned  round  to  thank  his  guardian  spirit  who  had  rescued  him  from 
perdition.  But  Earnest,  simply  whispering  in  his  ear :  "  If  you  are 
not  the  vilest  and  most  ungrateful  of  men,  you  will  never  gamble 
more,"  pressed  his  hand  kindly  and  instantly  departed.  Merivale 
followed,  and  the  two  friends  sought  their  lodgings. 


CHAPTER  X. 

Reflections — a  fair  warning  to  those  who  wish  to  skip. 

While  they  sleep,  perhaps  we  cannot  do  our  readers  a  greater  favor, 
or  at  least  such  of  them  as  have  done  us  the  honor  to  take  an  interest 
in  the  destiny  and  history  of  our  characters,  than  to  give  some  ac- 
count of  Earnest  and  Merivale  and  state  some  of  the  reasons  and  ob- 
jects of  their  appearance  in  the  conduct  of  our  story. — They  were 
brothers  who  in  early  life  had  been  powerfully  attracted  by  a  mutual 
impulse  to  metaphysical  and  philosophical  studies.  Both  mingled  in 
a  remarkable  degree  the  practical  and  speculative.  Their  father 
died  while  they  were  still  quite  young,  and  they  found  themselves  the 
joint  owners  of  an  immense  estate.  With  the  golden  enthusiasm  and 
hopeful  trust  in  men  and  human  destiny,  which  are  the  most  precious 
CTidowments  of  life — too  precious  to  outlast  in  the  majority  of  men 
the  earliest  youth — they  determined  and  solemnly  pledged  themselves 


6Q  CELIO. 

to  each  other  to  devote  their  lives  and  fortunes  to  meliorating  the  con- 
dition of  their  fellow-creatures  and  to  testing  practically  their  various 
theories  of  social  improvement.  Society  was  the  theme  which  they 
accepted  as  their  life's  study  ;  and  to  the  prosecution  of  their  re- 
searches they  brought  hearts  of  the  strongest  and  purest,  intellects 
of  the  keenest,  and  a  will  and  energy  which,  as  the  result  will  show, 
were  firm  and  indomitable  as  a  God's.  There  is  something  in  the 
conception  of  such  a  life  as  this,  thus  voluntarily  offered  up  upon  the 
altar  of  mankind,  more  beautiful,  more  sublime,  than  the  wildest 
dreams  of  the  poet  or  the  greatest  imaginings  of  the  artist.  On  what 
canvass  or  on  what  marble,  within  the  pages  of  what  book,  or  amid 
the  scenes  of  what  poetic  drama,  is  there  embodied  any  thing  half  so 
noble,  so  utterly  human  and  so  truly  Godlike,  as  these  two  brothers 
in  their  beautiful  and  celestial  sympathy,  willingly  devoting  them- 
selves heart,  soul  and  fortune,  to  the  most  chivalrous  vow  that  ever 
passed  mortal  lips  or  made  throb  a  human  heart  1  Had  the  drama 
or  the  pages  of  our  imaginative  literature  furnished  to  the  world  a 
few  models  of  real  practical  nobili.f,  a  few  beau  ideal  upon  which 
admiring  gaze  of  the  world  might  be  fixed,  not  as  upon  a  star  which 
cannot  be  approached,  but  as  upon  something  great,  good  and  noble, 
that  all  might  equal  or  somewhat  at  least  resemble,  how  pointless 
would  fall  the  sneers  of  the  bigot,  the  anathemas  of  the  enthusiast, 
or  even  the  sincere  denunciations  of  the  ignorant  moralist  who  see  in 
the  present  forms  of  art  but  the  embodiment  of  effeminate  and  licen- 
tious ideas  or  the  last  sublimation  and  transmutation  into  the  sem- 
blance of  good,  of  the  most  questionable  of  sentiments  and  equivocal 
principles  ? 

It  is  not  our  purpose,  at  present,  to  go  into  a  detailed  history 
of  the  lives  and  adventures  of  either  Captain  Earnest  or  his  brother, 
who  bore  the  name  of  Merivale.  These  will  be  sufficiently  develop- 
ed in  the  future  course  of  our  history.  It  is  enough  that  we  say  here 
that  notwithstanding  the  mysterious  scenes  in  which  we  have  met  our 
hero.  Captain  Earnest,  and  the  very  questionable  characters  by 
whom  he  has  been  for  the  most  part  surrounded  and  with  whom  he 
is  evidently  upon  the  best  of  terms,  yet  never  has  lie  for  an  instant  fal- 
tered from  his  real  purpose  ;  never  failed  in  word  or  deed  in  this 
sworn  duty  to  humanity ;  never  sullied  the  purity  of  his  noble  nature  ; 
and  although  he  may  have  committed  errors,  and  sometimes  grevious 
ones,  of  judgment  and  of  policy,  yet  we  assure  the  reader  that  he,  as 
well  as  ourself,  will  be  satisfied  with  the  entire  career  and  the  final 
achivements  of  this  strange  yet  natural  character. 

As  to  Merivale,  his  nature  was  by  no  means  so  cabalistic  as  that 
of  his  elder  brother,  lie  was  all  frankness  and  sunshine  and  trans- 
parency. His  eyes  were  windows,  whenceforth  freely  looked  his  soul. 
His  life  was  but  the  mirror  of  his  heart,  and  he  went  straight  on  in 
the  acoomplishmont  of  his  objects,  neither  mingled  with  the  dark  in- 
trigues of  vice,  seeking  to  give  their  current  a  higher  and  purer  di- 
rection, nor  lowering  himself  to  the  level  of  those  he  would  reform, 
trusting  to  his  own  strength  to  raise  them  all  up  again. 


KEFLKCTIONS.  6? 

As  was  natural  to  a  character  of  this  description,  he  had  for  tho 
most  part  confined  himself  to  life  as  it  is  developed  in  the  country.  His 
own  organization  drew  him  powerfully  to  rural  scenes,  where  alone 
he  seemed  to  breathe  freely ;  for  he  said  that  there  was  something  in 
the  atmosphere  of  a  city  which  seemed  not  only  to  choke  up  his  lungs 
but  to  suffocate  the  very  soul  within  him.  And  so  it  is.  There  can 
be  not  a  doubt  that  the  poisonous  exhalations  of  a  large  city  corres- 
pond not  merely  by  accident  but  upon  immutable  mathematical  and 
philosophical  principles  with  the  moral  miasmas  which  are  generated 
by  its  hot  contacts  and  unnatural  struggles.  It  is  not  too  much  to  be- 
lieve, for  one  who  has  dared  to  study,  think  and  reason  for  himself,  that 
the  diseases  of  civilization  correspond  to  its  crimes,  and  that  the  aw- 
ful epidemics  which  at  certain  intervals  sweep  over  the  face  of  society, 
laying  low  thousands  of  the  good  and  fair  as  well  as  the  vile  and 
wretched,  are  the  physical  retributations  for  the  mass  of  crime  and 
fraud  and  oppression  and  licentiousness  which  pervade  all  ranks  and 
every  walk  of  life.  The  geologists  have  satisfactorily  proved  that 
the  shell  of  the  earth  in  the  early  period  of  its  escapes  from  incan- 
descence was  inhabited  by  gigantic  monsters  too  formless,  chaotic  and 
horrible  to  be  now  even  conceived  of,  and  that  the  character  of  the 
animals  upon  the  surface  of  the  earth  became  more  and  more  refined 
as  the  earth  itself  condensed  and  approximated  to  its  porcelain  con- 
sistence. And  there  are  not  wanting  eminent  and  intellectual  men 
in  the  present  enlightened  era  who  believe  that  this  mutual  refinement 
of  earth  and  animal  will  proceed  until  all  sufiering,  all  ignorance,  all 
dis.:i<e  and  all  crime  shall  have  disappeared  from  society — while 
noxious  gases,  poisonous  trees  and  minerals,  beasts  and  birds  of  prey, 
and  all  other  natural  types  of  the  transition  period  of  the  earth's 
developement,  will  no  longer  exist. 

Until  very  recently,  (says  the  great  Liebig,)  it  was  supposed  that 
the  physical  qualities  of  bodies — such  as  hardness,  color,  density^ 
transparency,  &c.  depended  upon  the  nature  of  the  elements  of  whicb 
they  were  composed  ;  and  of  course  that  substances  of  entirely  diff?i 
ing  qualities  must  consist  of  equally  difiering  elements.  It  was  im' 
possible  to  imagine  two  bodies,  composed  of  precisely  the  same  ele- 
ments and  in  exactly  the  same  relative  proportions,  possessing  physi- 
cal aim  chemical  properties  totally  opposite  to  each  other. 

And  yet  the  great  practical  philosopher  goes  on  to  demonstrate, 
by  experiments  which  any  one  may  try  for  himself,  that  these  ideas 
were  all  utterly  wrong.  A  great  many  substances  have  been  discover- 
ed among  organic  bodies  composed  of  the  same  elements  in  the  same 
relative  proportion  and  yet  exhibiting  physical  and  chemical  properties 
totally  distinct.  They  are  called  in  chemistry  isomeric  ;  and  among 
them  whole  and  extensive  classes  of  bodies  known  as  the  volatile  oils, 
oil  of  turpentine,  essence  of  lemons,  oil  of  balsam,  of  copaiba, 
rosemary,  juniper,  and  many  others,  differing  widely  from  each  other 
in  their  odor,  in  lieir  medicinal  effects,  in  their  boiling  point,  specific 
gravity,  &c.  are  exactly  identical  in  composition — they  contain  the 
Same  elements,  carbon  and  hydrogen,  in  exactly  the  same  proportions. 


68  CELIO. 

So,  toO;  the  crystalized  part  of  the  oil  of  roses — the  most  delicious  and 
enchanting  of  perfumes,  to  inhale  which  instantly  makes  beautiful 
ideas  and  harmonious  sounds  and  symmetrical  shapes  float  through 
the  brain — is  a  compound  body  containing  exactly  the  same  elements 
as  the  noisome  gas  with  which  we  light  the  streets,  a  leaky  pipe  of 
which  sickens  with  its  intolorable  odor  a  whole  neighborhood. 

The  truth,  then,  in  regard  to  the  physicial  world,  is  that  things 
are  beautiful  or  ugly,  delightful  or  disgusting,  not  on  account  of  the 
materials  of  which  they  are  composed,  but  in  accordanoe  with  the 
order  in  which  the  particles  are  arranged.  Otter  of  roses  is  but 
crystalized  street  gas — the  white  milky  knobs  we  sometimes  see  on 
furniture,  but  uncrystalized  glass.  The  preliminary  condition  of  all 
things  in  unperfect,  crude,  opaque,  or  as  the  chemists  say,  amorphous. 
The  ultimate  capacity  of  all  things  is  beauty,  transparency,  delight 
— in  a  word,  crystalization.  Now  let  us  apply  one  anology  to 
the  moral  condition  of  society. 

We  look  abroad  upon  the  world  and  find  society  in  utter  and  ap- 
lif^rently  hopeless  confusion.  Everywhere  the  immense  majority  of 
mankind  are  suft'ering  horrible  oppression,  want,  misery,  degradation, 
— whole  races  being  anniliilated  and  entire  kingdoms  depopulated  by 
starvation,  while  a  few  hundred  thousand  men  waste  and  riot  in  the 
•wealth  of  the  world,  the  produce  of  millions  of  toiling  hands  and  weary 
bodies.  Over  the  greater  portion  of  the  globe  the  night  of  heathenism 
or  Mahometanism  still  reigns,  while  the  enlightened  and  progressive 
empires  of  Europe  unite  their  slave-armies  to  crush  a  people  struggling 
for  the  liberty  of  choosing  their  own  form  of  government.  Despotism 
is  on  the  Rhine — Despotism  spreads  her  blighting  wings  ove-r 
Italy  and  Hungary,  and  paralyzes  the  arm  of  industry  throughou*" 
fertile  Asia  and  along  the  prolific  shores  of  the  Nile.  The  fairest 
and  goodliest  portion  of  this  beautiful  earth,  which  God  has  given  to 
man  for  his  heritage  and  dwelling  place — endowing  him  with  capaci- 
ties to  create,  the  faculties  to  appreciate  forms  of  enjoyment  and 
felicity  innumerable — is  inhabited  but  by  wretches,  starving  slaves, 
to  whom  life  is  the  bitterest  curse  and  death  the  only  blessnig.  In 
our  own  country  things  are  not  quite  so  bad,  because  they  have  not  had 
time  enough  to  become  so — but  the  tendencies  are  in  the  same  direc- 
tion and  if  left  to  operate  unrestrained  would  lead  to  it  in  the  end. 
In  the  single  city  of  New  York  we  spend  half  a  million  per  annum 
to  support  paupers  and  criminals  :  the  moment  it  is  dark  the  principal 
thoroughfares  are  rendered  impassable  to  virtue  and  modesty  by  troops 
of  bad,  reckless  women,  driven  by  treachery,  desertion,  starvation,  to 
loathsome  lives  and  onward  to  still  more  loathsome  deaths.  In  every 
oranch  of  human  interest — in  the  workshop,  the  counting-house,  the 
<rtore,  the  oflBcc  of  the  professional  man — Fraud  and  Falsehood  rear 
their  heads,  twin  demons  of  the  e]K)ch.  The  respectable  financier  will 
rob  you  of  your  money  with  worthless  stock,  which  he  himself  will  set 
about  reducing  to  its  true  value  the  moment  he  has  made  you  his 
dupe — the  wine  merchant  will  aend  you  poisonous  compounds,  danger- 
■ouH  to  health  and  life  itself,  in  place  of  the  generous  juice  of  the  grape 


REFLECTIONS.  69 

fbr  which  you  have  paid — the  fancy  dealer  will  wheedle  your  wife 
and  daughters  out  of  two  hundred  per  cent,  profits  on  his  flimsy  wares, 
and  sell  to  the  next  customer,  who  happens  to  be  sharp,  for  less  than 
cost — the  family  grocer  mixes  his  sugars,  adulterates  his  teas  and 
puts  peanuts  with  his  coffee — the  butcher  sends  you  the  breast  of  lamb 
that  died  of  the  rot,  and  the  milkman  will  label  his  cart  '^  Pure 
0>n^'e  County  Milk"  and  from  it  supply  you  with  the  disgusting, 
unwholesome,  poisonous  drainings  of  the  distillery. 

The  injustices  practised  upon  the  laboring  classes  are  still  worse, 
and  ynany  of  them  heart-rending.  To  say  nothing  of  the  totally  inade- 
quate compensation  given  those  patient  men  who  perform  all  trie  hard 
and  hurtful  and  revolting  labor  of  society,  and  who  ought  therefore  to 
be  better  paid  than  others,  many  of  whose  occupations  are  in  them- 
selves a  pleasure — look  for  a  moment  at  the  condition  of  those  twenty 
thousand  women  in  our  city  obliged  to  support  themselves  by  the  labor 
of  their  fingers.  We  will  not  dwell  on  the  barbarous  outrages  practised 
upon  these  helpless  creatures  by  their  mercenary  and  soulless  em- 
ployers— we  will  not  recall  the  vivid  pictures  of  their  suffering  (yet 
all  too  faint  to  truly  represent  the  original,)  with  which  modern  lit- 
erature and  journalism  has  made  the  public  familiar.  But  they  are 
here — they  go  on  and  increase  from  year  to  year  ;  and  every  season 
beholds,  as  the  inevitable  fruits  of  these  crimes,  hundreds  of  victims 
added  to  the  ranks  of  prostitution. 

Whence  all  these  disorders,  in  a  world  so  capable  of  supplying 
abundance  of  homestead  and  food  to  every  one  of  its  inhabitants,  and 
peopled  by  creatures  so  exqusitely  susceptible  to  happiness  and  en- 
nobling reflections  and  emotions  ?  Of  how  much  happiness  is  mankind 
capable — and  how  insignificant  the  portion  he  actually  enjoys  ?  Do 
we  not  see  that  there  is  radically  disorder  somewhere'?  The  ele- 
ments are  all  here,  and  in  their  proper  proportions — for  God  himself 
distributed  them :  but  they  are  not  in  an  amorphous  condition. 
Society  is  not  yet  crystalizbd. 

But  it  is  not  by  an  impulse  from  without  that  we  must  expect  to 
see  the  present  disorder  disturbed  and  an  opportunity  given  for  the 
elements  of  society  to  arrange  themselves  in  harmonious  and  crystaline 
forms,  whose  beautiful  product  shall  be  human  happiness.  Herein 
consists  the  difference  between  solid  and  senseless  particles  of  mere 
matter,  of  which  the  chemist's  crystals  are  formed,  and  that  fier}-^, 
aspiring,  heaven-invading  essence,  the  human  soul.  Carrying  within 
her  own  consciousness  the  sense  of  her  own  glorious  destiny,  it  is 
alone  from  herself  that  the  powerful  impetus  must  come  to  break  up 
the  present  amorphous  condition  of  society  and  leave  it  to  recombine 
in  symmetrical  and  crystalic  forms,  according  to  the  immutable  laws 
of  divine  freedom  in  order  and  variety  in  unity  which  keep  the  starry 
universe  singing  upon  its  harmonious  way.  This  truth  is  now  be- 
ginning to  be  felt ;  but  what  is  the  special  nature  of  this  impulse,  or 
whence  it  is  to  come,  men  as  yet  know  nothing.  They  are  like  half- 
wakened  men — feeling  conscious  that  the  morning  is  come,  but  not 
yet  able  to  look  in  the  proper  direction  for  the  light. 


TO 


CELIO. 


CHAPTER  XL 

THE     YOUNG     PRIMA     DONNA. A     DEBUT,     AND     HOW     TO     GET     U>-    - 

FURORE. 

Many  weeks  had  elapsed  from  the  time  we  last  saw  Celio.  The 
new  journal  had  been  established  and  had  made  a  great  sensation. 
Everybody  was  delighted,  excited,  frightened,  by  its  charming  audaci- 
ty, the  freshness  and  vigor  of  its  criticisrfi  upon  men  women  and  things, 
the  boldness  of  its  prophesies,  the  bitterness  of  its  denunciations. 
Subscriptions,  advertisements,  and  patronage  of  all  kinds  flowed  in 
upon  the  treasury  in  a  golden  stream.  Celio,  whose  activity  and 
minute  knowledge  of  details  were  as  remarkable  as  his  mental  quick- 
ness and  physical  sensitiveness,  had  organized  an  excellent  corps  of 
sub-editors  and  reporters — patient  laborers  at  the  wheel  that  drives 
on  the  vast  enghie,  but  who  never  succeed  in  drawing  any  benefit 
from  its  mighty  labors  save  their  weekly  stipend.  He,  himself, 
however,  had  suddenly  emerged  from  his  chrysalis  state  of  existence 
and  had  become,  to  a  certain  extent,  the  master  spirit  of  the  estab- 
lishment. It  is  true  that  the  superior  experience  and  inexhaustible 
resources  of  Captain  Earnest  were  the  controlling  and  sustaining 
influence  of  the  new  journal ;  but  the  Captain  had  found  Celio  at 
once  so  apt,  so  able  and  conscientious,  that  he  gladly  abandoned  to 
him  the  management  of  afiairs,  while  his  own  time  was  more  at  his 
command  in  his  various  other  schemes — but  of  which  Celio  himself 
knew  not  nearly  so  much  as  the  Teader  can  perhaps  guess. 

Celio  was  seated  at  his  editorial  table,  which  was  covered  with 
letters,  papers,  concert  tickets,  disemboweled  envelopes  and  disre- 
garded communications,  presenting  a  perfect  chaos  of  wasted  ink  and 
misappropriated  stationery.  Here  was  an  invitation,  written  in  a 
flourishing,  clerky  hand,  to  accom])any  the  splendid  new  steamer 
George  Washington  on  a  trial  trip  down  the  Bay ;  and  beside  it  lay 
an  unopened  package  of  superior  soap,  with  a  note  of  compliments 
from  the  manufacturer,  wlio  requested,  in  a  postscript,  "  a  few  lines 
in  your  widely-circulated  and  inde])endent  journal."  Cards  to  fire- 
men's dinners  and  floating  balls,  soirees  d'artiste  and  trade-sales, 
"Wero  heaped  upon  each  other  in  confusion  ;  and  a  circular  of  throe 
pages,  giving  a  minute  descri])tion  of  a  ])ate"nt  washing-machine, 
StarcMl  boldly  out  from  a  heap  of  certificates  of  the  infallible  efiieacy 
of  sugar-coated  ])ills.  Listlessly  Celio  turned  over  these  evidences 
of  his  editorial  importance,  until  his  eye  fell  upon  a  little  note, 
directed  to  himself  in  a  picturesque  hand,  and  the  seal  of  which  was 
Btill  unbroken.  He  hastily  opened  it,  and  having  devoured  its  coa- 
teiiii  with  his  eyes,  he  took  up  his  hat  and  left  the  oifi^e. 


A    DEBUT.  Tl 

In  a  few  minutes  he  was  at  the  Astor,  and  hurrying  up  something 
ess  tlian  a  league  of  the  interminable  staircase,  knocked  softly  at 
a  door.  It  was  quickly  opened,  and,  in  a  joyous  tone,  Nina 
exclaimed, 

"  Ah  Cclio,  how  glad  I  am  that  you  have  come !  Your  friend 
Captain  Earnest  has  just  been  here,  perplexing  me  so  with  his 
strange  talk  that  I  scarcely  know  whether  I  am  in  my  senses.  What 
indeed  does  he  mean?" 

*'  I  am  sure  he  means  your  good,  dear  Nina,  and  you  may  be 
certain  that  his  advice  is  always  important.  But  what  has  he  said  ? 
You  seem  startled." 

"  Why,  he  tells  me  that,  although  he  is  delighted  with  my  singing, 
and  that  everybody  who  knows  anything  of  music  must  be  delighted 
also,  yet  I  shall  never  succeed  in  my  project  unless  an  excitement  is 
got  up." 

^'  He  is  doubtless  right,  Nina,  for  a  very  great  majority  of  those 
from  whom  the  money  is  to  come  know  nothing  at  all  of  music,  and 
only  patronize  whatever  is  fashionable.  But  what  means  of  producing 
this  excitement  did  he  propose?" 

"  Oh,  he  said  I  must  give  a  grand  soiree  to  all  the  editors,  and 
make  acquaintance  with  them  when  they  come.  I  must  smile  and 
say  very  civil  things  to  all  of  them,  and  be  very  thankful  for  their 
good  opinion,  and  suffer  them  to  press  my  hand  if  they  wish,  and 
listen  to  everything  they  choose  to  say.  Oh,  I  can  never  do  this. 
I  should  be  angry  with  myself  if  I  thought  for  a  moment  that  I  could 
do  it.  After  all,  why  should  1 1  When  the  time  comes,  I  go  to  the 
theatre  and  sing — as  well  as  I  can.  If  the  public  is  pleased,  why 
that  is  well ;  if  not,  how  can  I  help  it?" 

"  Yes,  but  suppose  the  public,  instead  of  being  there  to  hear  you, 
is  attending  to  its  business  and  pleasure  elsewhere,  and  never  comes 
to  hear  you  at  all  ?  Then  what  will  it  matter  if  you  sing  like  Per- 
siani  and  act  like  Malibran  ?  And  besides,  even  if  you  had  a  full 
house  and  everybody  was  in  raptures  with  you,  yet  it  would  all 
amount  to  nothing  unless  you  had  made  friends  with  the  editors. 
The  Courrier  des  Salons  would  announce  in  a  pompous,  dogmatical 
tone,  that  your  voice  was  a  filet,  your  school  quite  passee,  and  your 
style  altogether  lacking  in  brilliance  and  expression.  The  Morning 
Ponderosity  would  prove  to  the  entire  satisfaction — of  at  least  its 
musical  critic — that  there  never  was  any  singer  but  Signora  Sugarina, 
and  that  because  you  were  not  Signora  Sugarina  you  of  course  were 
not  worth  hearing.  And  so,  notwithstanding  your  fancied  triumph, 
you  would  discover  next  morning,  before  breakfast,  that  you  had 
made  a  decided  failure.  Yes — Captain  Earnest  is  perfectly  right. 
You  must  have  a  soiree  by  all  means." 

"  I  begin  to  fear,  caro,  that  I  shall  never  get  through  with  this, 
seems  a  terrible  business  to  me." 
Oh,  that's  because  you  are  not  used  to  it.     By  and  by  it  will 
furnish  you  with  something  to  laugh  at.     And,  now  I  think  of 


72  CELIO. 

it,  we  mil  improve  a  little  on  Captain  Earnest's  plan,  and  invite 
to  our  soiree  the  leaders  of  the  various  fashionable  cliques,  who  each 
thinks  that  it  constitutes  the  very  highly-concentrated  essence  of 
good  society.  Leave  it  all  to  me.  Go  on  with  your  practising,  and 
give  me  the  writing-desk.  I  know  the  names  of  all  it  is  requisite  to 
invite,  and  can  write  a  neat  little  crowquill  hand,  you  know,  of  which 
you  need  not  be  ashamed." 

"  Well,  go  on,  then,  since  it  must  be — but  let  me  help  you. 
There,  now  you  write  and  I  will  enclose  and  seal  the  precious  billets 
and  have  them  all  ready  for  you  to  direct.  When  is  it  to  be?" 
"  To-morrow  evening,  I  think  ;  the  sooner  the  better." 
While  Celio  and  his  fair  protege  are  engaged  in  their  pretty 
employment,  we  will  take  the  opportunity  of  bringing  up  the  incidents 
of  our  story  to  the  present  point,  and  explaining  the  new  position  the 
various  characters  of  the  drama  had  been  made  to  assume. 


CHAPTER  XII. 


An  Escapade  and  another  pipsonian  interview.     Things  are 

GETTING  terribly  TANGLED    WILL    THE    AUTHOR    EVER  UNRAVEL 
THEM? 

On  the  morning  following  the  funeral  of  Mr.  Carleton,  at  early- 
daylight,  his  widow  stealthily  left  the  house,  while  all  its  inmates  were 
still  in  repose  ;  and  stepping  into  a  cab,  which  had  evidently  been 
ordered  beforehand  to  the  place,  drove  rapidly  off  up  Greenwich  street. 
On  awaking,  Nina  found  a  letter  on  her  dressing-table  directed  to 
herself  in  the  hand  of  Mrs.  Carleton.  She  hastly  opened  it.  and 
found  that  it  contained  another  addressed  to  Celio.  The  letter  to 
herself  read  as  follows  : 

^'  Beloved  Daughter — I  desert  you  at  the  moment  when  you  most 
need  protection — yet  this  is  not  of  my  choice.  I  cannot  tell  you  all 
the  horrible  events  that  have  come  upon  me,  but  will  sum  them  up  in 
one  word  :  I  am  a  beggar — literally,  wholly  destitute  of  every  means 
of  prolonging  life,  save  by  the  labor  of  my  own  hands.  This  is  no 
hardship  to  me ;  and  were  it  myself  alone  who  felt  it,  I  should  not 
even  suffer,  much  less  complain.  But  for  you,  dear,  noble,  tender 
flower,  80  brightly  opening  and  so  greatly  in  need  of  careful  nurture, — 
it  breaks  my  heart  to  leave  you  tlius  unprovided.  Where  I  go,  and 
what  is  to  be  my  fate,  seek  not  to  enquire — this  is  my  solemn  request 
and  I  know  you  will   observe  it.     I  liave  revolved    the  matter  over 


MRS.    CARLETON^S    LETTER.  73- 

.gifefully  and  painfully  ;  and  I  have  at  last  been  driven  from  every 
Doint  to  the  one  miserable  conclusion  that  I  can  be  of  no  use  to  you 
whatever,  and  that  I  should  only  increase  your  embarrassments  by 
attempting  to  remain  with  you.  The  sum  enclosed  is  yours--  you 
need  have  no  delicacy  in  using  it,  for  it  is  the  precious  amount  your 
poor  father  bore  upon  his  person  when  he  was  carried  from  the  bla- 
zing building.  You  cannot  return  it  if  you  would — for  you  will  never 
see  me  nor  hear  of  me  more. 

"  This  letter  reads  cold  and  cruel — I  have  written  it  soon  purpose, 
while  my  heart  was  overflowing  with  love  and  tenderness — because 
you  have  a  bitter  struggle  to  endure,  and  you  will  thank  me  in  your 
heart,  by  and  by,  for  suffering  the  first  trial  to  come  from  the  hand 
— ^not  the  heart — of  a  true  friend.  It  is  this  playing  with  grief,  this 
make-believe  sorrow  that  fits  the  heart  for  enduring  the  real  with  in- 
difference— the  only  enviable  state.  Remember,  oh  my  daughter ! 
that  this  world  has  but  one  lesson  to  impart — indifference.  Resistance 
to  fate  is  the  mere  struggle  of  the  maniac  with  his  chains  and  prison- 
gates  :  indifference  to  suffering  is  the  godlike  armor  of  the  philoso- 
pher. You  do  not  understand  this  now,  but  one  day  you  will.  Mean- 
while, do  not  love  me  too  much  nor  think  of  me  too  sadly.  It  is  not 
so  bad,  a  few  years  of  mere  absence  of  pleasure.  Meanwhile  it  is 
very  possible  to  exist  peacefully  and  enviably  without  pleasure. 

"'  I  have  enclosed  a  letter  to  our  mutual  friend  and  your  noble  pre- 
server, Mr.  Celio.  Henceforth  he  takes  my  place  in  watchful  care 
over  you.  Trust  him,  Nina — confide  to  him,  ever  and  always,  without 
hesitation  and  without  reserve.  His  nature  is  as  pure  as  your  own,  and 
his  strong  will  and  fiery  energies  give  him  power  to  battle  succesfuUy 
with  fortune.  Yes,  he  will  prevail,  and  prevail  for  you.  Beautiful 
Nina,  blush  not  when  I  tell  you  your  heart's  secret — he  loves  you  and 
is  beloved.  Ah,  dearest,  he  is  all  worthy  of  you.  Lean  trustingly 
upon  him — and  may  your  destiny  be  as  bright  and  glorious  as  it 
would  be  were  I  your  guardian  spirit,  walking  between  you  and  di- 
recting your  steps  ! — Farewell  forever  ! 

''  Adelaide  Carleton." 

Even  while  Nina,  her  eyes  streaming  in  tears,  was  engaged  in 
perusing  this  strange  and  yet  most  womanly  epistle,  Celio  was  an- 
nounced ;  and  hastily  completing  her  toilet,  she  took  both  letters  and 
immediately  joined  him.  He  appeared  greately  surprised  at  her  dis- 
ordered appearance  ;  but  putting  Mrs.  Carlcton's  letter  him  into 
his  hand,  she  made  a  gesture  that  she  would  soon  return,  and  hurried 
from  the  room. 

It  is  necessary,  in  order  to  understand  fully  the  character  of  this 
woman,  that  the  letter  to  Celio  should  be  laid  before  the  reader. 

"  My  dearest  friend,"  it  began,  ^'  this  letter  has  cost  the  severest 
struggle  of  my  life — a  struggle  in  which  my  pride,  my  love,  and  every 
most  powerful  element  of  my  nature,  have  participated      But  love 


74  CELIO. 

has  conquered  :  and  I  have  now  the  courage — now  that  is  the  abso- 
lutely certain  that  I  am  never  to  see  you  again  in  this  world — to  own 
that  I  love  you,  that  I  long  have  loved  you,  more  than  life.  To  no 
other  man  who  ever  hved  could  I  confess  this,  under  the  dire  circum- 
stances in  which  I  am  placed  :  but  I  know  that  you  will  not  for  a 
moment  presume  upon  it  nor  accuse  me  falsely.  It  is  a  strange 
thing  for  me  to  confess — and  yet  I  do  confess  it — that  I  have  never 
been  able  to  blame  myself  for  loving  you,  even  while  I  loved  my 
husband  and  would  have  died  but  to  have  saved-  him  a  pang.  This 
is  a  terrible  mystery — but  I  have  not  now  the  heart  to  solve  it.  Let 
it  pass  to  the  dark  abyss  of  time. 

''  But  it  is  because  I  love  you  as,  it  seems  to  me,  that  no  woman 
ever  loved,  that  I  tell  you  calmly  and  deliberately  we  are  never  again 
to  meet  on  earth.  Were  it  otherwise,  or  were  that  otherwise  possi- 
ble, this  avowal  had  not  been  made.  But  I  could  not  bear  to  die 
with  the  great  secret  of  my  life  unuttered.  Now  that  the  confession 
is  written,  you  cannot  dream  how  gloriously  serene  and  tranquil  I 
am.  Yes — for  this  instant  I  am  supremely  happy.  My  soul  over- 
leaps this  life  and  beholds  us  in  the  spirit  world.  There,  Celio, 
there  we  may  love  all  who  love  us,  and  yet  do  wrong  to  none. 

"  But  you — you  love  another,  even  my  beautiful  and  peerless  Nina. 
It  were  impossible  for  you  not  to  love  each  other.  But  do  not  do  me 
the  injustice  to  believe  that  this  occasions  me  one  pang  of  jealousy. 
No — I  glory  in  it — it  is  my  chief  source  of  consolation  in  the  dark 
path  r  am  henceforth  to  tread  alone.  And  especially  that  I  am 
forced  to  forego  henceforth  all  my  sweet  watchfulness  over  this  tender 
flower,  and  to  commit  her  entirely  to  your  trust  and  keeping.  Oh, 
Celio,  strengthen  your  arm  and  nerve  your  heart  to  sustain  her  ! 
She  loves  you  and  confides  in  you  with  all  her  soul.  Next  to  God 
she  could  not  have  chosen  one  so  worthy.  She  will  tell  you  my  situa- 
tion and  my  future  prospects.  I  could  not  bring  myself  to  speak  oi 
them  in  this  sacred  place. 

"  Regard  these  as  my  dying  words,  dear  Celio — for  so  they  are  to 
you  ;  and  let  them  be  sometimes  remembered  in  the  high  and  bril- 
liant career  that  awaits  you.  Think  of  me  never  with  sadness,  but 
only  with  kindness  and  forbearance. 

"  Adelaide." 

The  perusal  of  this  letter  was  calculated  to  create  a  wliirlwind  of 
emotion  in  the  bosom  of  Celio  ;  but  he  stopped  not  now  to  analjrze 
his  sensations  or  even  to  permit  himself  to  be  conscious  of  them. 
The  precious  characters  had  been  graven  upon  his  heart — he  could 
read  the  dear  history  they  chronicled  at  another  time. — At  present 
one  idea  solely  possessed  him — to  discover  the  retreat  of  the  beloved 
fugitive  and  induce  her  to  forego  her  rash,  her  impossible  determina- 
tion. Knowing  liow  pure  and  free  from  entanglements  of  every  kind 
wjis  the  life  of  this  nobh'  woman,  he  had  no  difficulty  in  concluding 
that  this  last  sudden  blow  which  had  fallen  upon  her  with  such  force 


75 

AS  to  drive  her  from  her  liome  must  be  a  pecuniary  one.  Although 
he  had  not  had  tlie  slightest  suspicion  of  the  embarrassments  under 
which  Mr.  Carlcton  had  labored,  yet  since  his  death  he  had  hiciden- 
tally  heard  a  rumor  to  the  effect  that  he  died  bankrupt.  This  he 
attributed  at  once  to  idle  calumny — the  closing  of  the  establishment 
being  sufficiently  accounted  for  by  the  death  of  its  principal.  Now^ 
however,  the  topic  recurred  to  him  ;  and  he  scarcely  needed  the  ex 
planation  furnished  by  Mrs.  Carleton's  letter  to  Nina  to  lead  him  it 
a  tolerably  accurate  conclusion.  Passing  from  the  parlor  he  knocked 
at  Nina's  little  room,  and  found  the  poor  girl  sobbing  dolefully.  He 
endeavored  to  console  her,  and  assured  her  that  he  would  never  rest 
until  he  had  discovered  and  reunited  her  to  her  friend.  While  they 
were  mingling  their  lamentations,  and  the  quick  mind  of  Celio  wa^t 
constructing  his  plan  of  operations  for  discovering  Mrs.  Carleton^ 
the  bell  rang,  and  the  servant  came  to  announce  that  Mr.  PipsoR 
had  called  to  see  Mrs.  Carleton  ;  and  as  she  was  not  in  her  own  room 
the  servant  had  come  naturally  to  that  of  the  young  lady. 

"  She  is  not  here  just  now,"  said  Nina,  "  but  tell  the  gentleman 
that  I  will  come  down  in  a  moment." 

'*  Who  is  Mr.  Pipson?"  inquired  Celio  when  the  servant  had  re- 
tired. 

^'  I  know  not — a  strange,  evil-looking  man,  who  was  here  yester- 
day morning,  and  who  I  cannot  help  thinking  has  exercised  some 
mysterious  influence  in  driving  Mrs.  Carleton  from  her  home." 

"  I  do  not  know  who  it  can  be — I  never  heard  the  name  before. 
Stay  3^ou  here — I  will  go  down  to  him." 

Mr.  Pipson  appeared  greatly  surprised  at  meeting  Celio,  and  ob- 
served, hesitatingly,  as  Celio  bowed  and  seated  himself  by  his  side, 
"  I  was  expecting  to  see  Mrs.  Carlton,  sir — or  at  least  the  young 
lady,  who " 

"  Both  ladies  are  engaged,  sir,"  replied  Celio,  "  and  will  not  be 
able  to  do  themselves  the  honor  of  seeing  you  this  morning.  But  I 
am  deputed  as  their  friend " 

^'  Oh,  you  are  the  friend  of  both  ladies,  are  you?"  inquired  Pipson, 
sneering  insolently.  "  Well,  I  must  confess  that  you  are  a  very 
fortunate  young  man." 

"  What  do  you  mean,  sir  ?"  asked  Celio  sternly,  and  fixing  his 
glaring  eyes  full  upon  the  other. 

"  Oh,  nothing,  nothing  in  this  world,  my  dear  sir,"  said  Pipson, 
depreciatingly  ;  "  I  had  a  little  affair  of  business  to  transact  with  Mrs. 
Carleton  this  morning,  and  will  wait  until  she  is  disengaged." 

"  That  would  be  unnecessary  and  inconvenient.  You  had  better  call 
some  other  time,"  said  Celio  in  the  haughtiest  tone  he  could  assume — 
it  appearing  to  him  that  this  was  the  most  likely  way  of  making  Pip- 
eon  disclose  the  object  of  his  visit.  He  was  not  mistaken.  Mr.  Pip- 
son mused  a  moment,  and  then,  rising  his  head  almost  erect,  he  saic! 
firmly  : 

"  I  have  decided." 


76  fiELIO. 

"  Upon  what,  sir?" 

"  To  remain  here  until  IVvrs.  Carleton  can  see  me." 

"  Well,  I  also  have  decided  that  you  shall  not  stay  another  mo 
ment.     Go  !" 

"  Young  man,  you  take  liberties,  not  only  with  me,  a  stranger  wh< 
has  never  offended  you,  but  with  the  interests  of  your  friend  Mrs. 
Carleton.     How  do  you  know  that  I  am  not  also  her  friend." 

"  Your  looks,  your  tone  of  voice — every  thing  about  you  convince 
me  that  Mrs.  Carleton  can  have  no  sentiment  but  of  contempt  for 
you.  I  trust,  at  least,  so  far  as  this  to  my  instinctive  impressions. 
But  I  tell  you  furthermore,  that  you  cannot  see  Mrs.  Carleton.  She 
is  not  in  the  house,  nor  do  we  know  what  has  become  of  her." 

"  What !  You  do  not  say  she  has  fled  !  I  don't  believe  it — I 
must  see  for  myself." 

"  What  are  you  doing  1  This  is  the  way  to  the  street  door,  Mr, 
Pipson." 

**  But  I  am  not  going  to  the  street  door — I  am  going  to  find  Mrs. 
Carleton.  My  God !  It  cannot  be  that  she  has  fled  !  No,  no,  I 
will  not  believe  it." 

*'  I  think  you  are  mad,"  said  Celio  quietly,  placing  himself  in 
Pipson's  way,  "  to  suppose  I  will  let  you  pass  anywhere  but  through 
the  street  door,  after  what  I  have  said." 

"  Mr. what's  your  name,  shall  I  tell  you  a  bit  of  a  secret? 

This  house  is  mine,  and  I  have  a  right  to  go  through  it  in  any  direc- 
tion I  please." 

"  Insolent  liar,  what  do  you  mean  ?" 

"  I  mean  just  this — that  old  Carleton  died  owing  me  more  than  he 
was  worth,  and  that  I  hold  a  mortgage  on  this  house  and  every  thing 
it  contains.  It  is  mine,  sir,  mine — to  do  with  as  I  please.  Now  leave 
me,  and  leave  my  house." 

"  Mr.  Pipson,"  said  Celio,  keeping  very  calm,  although  his  nostrils 
dilated  and  his  chest  heaved  with  passion,  "  I  believe  you  tell  a 
a  trociousf  alsehood — I  know  you  are  a  villain.  But  if  even  what  you 
say  is  true,  I  know  enough  of  law  to  know  that  j^ou  have  no  authority 
for  taking  possession  of  your  property  in  this  summarily  manner.  If 
this  house  is  really  yours,  the  laws  shall  meet  with  no  obstructions 
in  putting  you  in  possession  of  it.  "But  beware  !  Do  not  attempt  to 
go  beyond  that !  And  now,  I  beg  of  you,  go  away.  It  will  be  bettei 
for  all  of  us,  for  I  am  LOt  less  than  half  mad  already,  and  I  will  not 
be  answerable  for  the  consequences  if  you  stay." 

There  was  a  dignity  and  earnestness  in  tlu^  tone  and  aspect  of  Celio 
that  made  him  truly  majestic  besides  the  mercenary,  grovelling,  cow- 
ardly Pipson.  The  latter  gnawed  his  lips  with  rage  and  mortifica- 
tion, but  did  not  dare  to  prolong  the  contest.  Slowly  and  silently 
be  crept  away ;  and  the  moment  he  had  passed  beyond  the  sight  of 
the  frowning  Celio,  he  ,<rlided  swiftly  and  noiselessly  into  the  street. 


"thj4^ 


AFFAIR    OF    THE    SEASON. 


CHAPTER    XIII. 


'*THE"  AFFAIR  OF  THE  SEASON. HOW  MR.  JENKINS   ABUSED   MBS. 

JENKINS     AND    THE     GIRLS,     AND    HOW    THEY    ALL    TOOK    A    BACK 
SEAT. 

It  was  the  night.  The  rehearsals  were  all  over — the  newspapers 
had  exhausted  themselves  for  the  millionth  time  in  heaping  pane- 
gyrics upon  the  new  prima  donna,  whom  they,  every  one,  had 
"  fortunately  had  the  pleasure  of  hearing  in  private  at  a  soiree  at 
one  of  the  fashionable  hotels."  Her  voice,  if  you  believed  the  con- 
scientious assertions  of  the  musical  critics — and  in  New  York  every 
paper,  daily  or  weekly,  has  a  ''musical  critic" — her  voice  was  like 
Persiani's,  Grisi's,  and  Jenny  Lind's,  while  her  expression  was  a 
compound  of  all  three,  with  a  dash  of  Alboni,  a  sprinkle  of  Viardot 
Garcia,  and  a  something  superior  to  all.  The  western  hemisphere 
was  to  be  astonished.  Monsieur  Moustache,  the  leader  of  the  French 
clique,  who  had  assisted  at  the  debut  of  Mme.  Mara  at  the  Conser- 
vatoire, went  about  mysteriously  with  a  very  momentous  look  and  an 
oracular  laying  of  the  finger  beside  the  nose.  If  anybody  ventured 
to  ask  him  his  opinion  of  the  new  prima  donna,  he  shook  his  head 
solemnly,  shrugged  his  shoulders  intensely,  and  throwing  up  his  eyes 
and  extending  his  palms,  exclaimed  in  a  pitying  voice : 

"  And  you  were  not  there !  My  God !  how  do  you  manage  to 
exist !" 

If  it  was  a  lady  who  questioned  him,  as  it  very  often  was,  for  he 
was  a  deserved  favorite  in  that  quarter,  he  contented  himself  with 
precisely  the  same  course  of  gesticulation,  and  the  observation : 

*'  Oh,  my  dear  madam,  you  will  see,  you  will  hear  !  You  have  a 
great  happiness  in  store  for  yourself." 

So  the  excitement  ran  through  all  the  different  circles  of  French 
society — and  they  are  not  very  clearly  defined  nor  classified  in  our 
democratic  metropolis.  The  native  gallantry  and  excitability  of  that 
chivalric  and  enthusiastic  people  were  aroused.  It  was  a  very  long 
time  that  they  had  been  without  an  excitement — ever  since  Cinti- 
Damoreau  and  Vieuxtemps  ;  and  the  new  prima  donna  was  quite  a 
god-send.  It  was  true  she  was  Italian  ;  had  she  been  French,  there 
is  no  knowing  where  it  would  have  stopped. 

The  English  clique  was  cold  and  reserved,  yet  keenly  on  the 
K'atch.  It  ought  to  be  known  that  all  English  musicians  have  a  spe- 
Bial  mission — which  is  to  convince  the  blind  and  stupid  world  that 
Rossini  was  a  fool,  Donnizetti  an  ignoramus,  and  Bellini  an  ass. 
A^  to  Verdi,  he  is  Httle  better  than  a  cut-throat ;  and  these  pious 


78  CELIO. 

and  conscientious  gentlemen  never  speak  of  him  without  a  grimace 
of  contempt  nor  write  of  him  without  abuse.  The  Italian  vocalists 
fare  little  better,  with  them,  than  the  composers.  In  fact,  they 
kindly  take  the  trouble  of  convincing  you,  beyond  the  possibility  of 
a  doubt,  that  Italy  is  no  country  for  music.  It  may  grow  very  good 
wine :  and  make  pretty  fair  imitation  Welch  cheeses,  and  get  up  a 
sausage,  respectable  at  least  in  size — but  as  to  music,  they  know 
nothing  of  it.  In  the  glorious  days  when  that  great  Englishman, 
Handl,  and  Dr.  Arne  and  the  other  (we  don't  remember  what  other) 
lights  of  the  art  lived  and  wrote,  then  was  the  millenium  of  music. 
Everything  since  is  mere  trash  and  sing-song.  It  is  a  perfectly- 
clear  case  that  all  the  singing  and  instrumenting,  in  a  new  country 
like  this,  should  be  done  by  Englishmen.  Mothers  sang  to  their 
children — why  should  not  the  mother  country  sing  and  play  to  hei-s? 
These  foreigners  were  interlopers,  and  ought  to  be  put  down. 

The  natives  of  course  had  no  opinion  of  their  own  ;  but  they  were 
decidedly  good-natured  and  strongly  inclined  to  find  a  debutante — 
especially  if  she  were  young  and  pretty — everything  that  had  been 
claimed  for  her.  It  is  a  somewhat  remarkable  fact  that  American 
ladies  arc  quite  as  fond  of  pretty  women  as  the  gentlemen,  and  will 
accept  almost  any  audacious  violator  of  good  taste  and  Grecian 
profile,  as  a  lionneof  the  largest  dimensions.  Such  a  thing  as  jealousy 
of  another's  attractions  seems  never  to  enter  their  heads.  The  mamas 
and  misses  therefore  of  Above-Bleecker  had  made  up  their  minds  to  be 
astonished  and  delighted  ;  and  nothing  had  been  talked  of  or  thought 
of  for  a  fortnight  but  the  debut  and  the  new  dresses  and  head-gear, 
also  destined  to  appear  for  the  first  time  on  that  occasion.  As 
evening  drew  near  the  West  End  was  in  the  most  interesting  flutter 
imaginable.  Wreaths  were  tied  on  and  tossed  aside,  ribbons  knotted 
and  unknotted — bows  made  and  undone  as  plenty  as  lovers — the 
tiniest  and  plumpest  of  feet  inserted  in  Nunn's  most  delicate  wliite 
satin  slippers — bracelets  clasped  round  the  whitest  arms  this  side  of 
the  Houris — and  attitudes  and  glances  practised  on  the  sofa,  while 
mama  and  the  maid  stood  in  the  back  parlor  to  watch  the  effect. 
The  Indolent  Ten  Thousand  were  for  once  alive.  Everybody  was 
going  to  the  Opera.  The  gentlemen  now  began  dropping  in  from 
"  down  town"  and  the  counting-house ;  and  the  great  and  momentous 
question  to  be  met  and  answered  was,  "  where  are  our  seats?"  (The 
subscription  system  has  since  settled  all  that.)  You  could  tell  by 
the  manner  of  the  culprit  as  he  entered  the  door  whether  he  had 
been  able  to  secure  front  seats,  or  had  only  arrived  at  the  box  ofl5ce 
in  time  to  get  anything  he  could  lay  his  hands  on.  Some,  as  they 
mounted  the  steps,  with  a  bold  and  confident  air,  drew  out  the  latch- 
key with  a  defiant  flourish,  as  if  it  had  been  a  sword,  and  flung  wide 
open  the  door.  They  were  met  in  the  hall  by  the  ladies,  eager,  loud, 
clamorous  in  demanding  where  were  their  seats. 

"There,  there — in  front,  I  tell  you,  for  four!"  exclaimed  the 
gentleman,  in  a  triumphant  tone,  brandishing  the   certificate  above 


HOW    MR.    JENKINS   ABUSED    MRS.    JENKINS.  71 

his  head  and  skimming  it  in  among  his  perfumed  assailants.  Others^ 
who  had  been  less  fortunate,  would  stop  the  stage  half  a  block  from 
their  own  doors  and  crawl  reluctantly  down  the  basement  gtairs,  like 
a  pauper  after  cold  victuals,  and  thence  gradually  work  their  way 
up  to  the  drawing-room. 

"  Well,  Mr.  Jenkins  !  P^'ifth  seat  back,  I  suppose,  as  usual  I 
Or  pray,  arc  you  going  to  perch  us,  perhaps,  in  the  second  tiei 
among  the  grocers'  wives  !" 

"  My  dear,  you  see" — 

"  Don't  my  dear  me  !  Of  course  I  see — that  you're  a  fool  and  an 
ungrateful  man,  who  deserved  to  be  left  in  the  dirt  where  I  found 
you.  I  never  can  make  you  feel  a  proper  sense  of  our  consequence, 
and  stand  up  for  your  rights  like  a  man.  You  let  everybody  run 
over  you.     I  only  wish  I  was  a  man  !" 

"  I'm  so  glad  you  are  not,  my  dear  !"  •     . 

"  Well,  it's  lucky  for  you,  perhaps.  And  there's  that  abominable, 
fat,  ugly,  snuffy,  vulgar  Mrs.  Wiggins,  who  I  don't  doubt  has  got 
front  seats  for  herself  and  all  her  red-armed,  carrotty -haired  daugh- 
ters— Mr.  Wiggins  has  some  feelings  for  the  helpless  beings  placed 
under  his  protection  !  And  there's  Angelina's  new  embroidered 
lace  skirt — cost  a  hundred  and  fifty  dollars  at  Stewart's,  and  every- 
body knows  she  is  going  to  wear  it — how  is  anybody  to  see  it  unless 
she  gets  up  and  sUuds  on  the  seats !  It  is  perfect  throwing  away  of 
money.     But  it's  always  just  so.     I  wish  I'd  staid  at  home  !" 

And  Mr.  Jenkins  makes  his  escape  into  the  basement,  to  dine  on 
a  cold  leg  of  mutton,  while  the  amiable  Mrs.  J.  proceeds  in  the  most 
scientific  and  well-received  form  to  have  a  fit  of  hysterics,  which  is 
ultimately  subdued  by  a  little  weak  brandy  and  water. 

But  it  is  night.  The  lamps  are  lit  and  the  carriages  begin  to  turn 
aside  from  Broadway  and  rattle  saucily  up  to  the  door.  Omnibuses, 
too,  stop  at  the  corner,  and  delicately-shrouded  ladies  are  assisted  to 
the  sidewalk  by  their  economical  cavaliers,  who  stuff  hood  and  wrap- 
ping-shawls into  their  hats  and  cram  overshoes  into  their  coat-pockets, 
thus  avoiding  cab-hire  as  well  as  cloak-money.  The  private  car- 
riages whirl  up  in  rapid  succession,  each  depositing  its  precious  bur- 
den and  wheeling  off  to  take  its  place  in  line,  ready  for  the  grand 
rush  and  scramble  which  was  to  close  the  evening's  performance. 

The  lobby  was  filled  with  critics  and  dandies,  who  had  taken  post 
in  the  most  conspicuous  manner,  for  the  purpose  of  examining  the 
ladies  as  they  came  in.  Nor  did  the  fair  creatures  appear  at  all 
abashed  at  this  gauntlet  of  glances.  And  in  fact  there  was  no  need* 
They  were  armed  cap-a-pie — at  all  points.  The  young  and  plump 
ones  did  not  scruple  to  m-ake  a  liberal  display  of  their  exquisite 
forms,  to  the  farthest  point  which  fashion — good,  easy  goddess  ! — 
permitted.  While  the  older  ones,  and  those  decidedly  passees,  with 
a  becoming  horror  of  all  such  improprieties,  (which  were  "  never 
tolerated  when  they  were  children,")  muffled  their  skinny  necks  in 
an  infinity  of  a  sort  of  semi-lucid  gauze,  very  appropriately  named 


«0 


CELIO. 


*' illusion,"  and  barricaded  their  too  susceptible  bosoms  behind 
breastworks  of  cotton.  Their  feet  and  ancles,  however,  were  still 
good,  and  betrayed  not  the  marks  of  time ;  and  it  took  one's  breath 
away  to  see  these  modest  dowagers,  as  they  reached  tlie  foot  of  the 
stairs,  raise  their  faces  from  behind  their  fans,  and  withdraw  with  a 
wide  sweep  the  curtain  of  the  spacious  jupe  from  the  exquisitelj- 
filled  satin  slipper.  All,  young  and  old,  carried  double-barreled 
glasses,  some  still  in  their  doeskin  cases,  some  already  drawn  and 
ready  for  action — while  you  could  distinguish  the  green  horns  in  an 
instant,  by  their  stopping  to  potter  with  the  little  boy  perched  on  the 
head  of  the  bamiister  post,  bawling  the  libretto  of  ''  Lucy  de  Lam- 
mermore — only  two  shil'n!" 

"  Well,  well,  I  declare  now,"  said  a  pursy,  vacant-looking  old 
gentleman  with  his  finely-fixed-up  waxen  daughters  on  his  arm, 
ducking  and  bridling  at  every  step,  as  if  they  were  trying  to  creep 
still  further  out  of  their  frocks,  "  this  now  is  something  hke  a  house 
— something  fit  for  genteel  people  to  come  to.  How  do  you  like  our 
sofa,  Mary  Arabella  Adeline  dear?" 

^'  Oh,  pa,  I  think  it  is  so  nice — quite  distingue,  you  know.  I  can 
see  everybody  that  is  worth  seeing." 

"  Yes,"  broke  in  the  youthful  Sarah  Amelia  Anne,  "  and  then  I 
am  so  glad  to  think  that  we've  got  right  in  front  of  that  vulgar  Mrs. 
Doctor  Blank,  and  her  fussy  little  things  of  daughters." 

"  I  don't  see  how  they  manage  to  come  to  the  opera  any  how,  on 
his  income,"  said  the  good  natured  old  gentleman.  "  But  you 
musn't  scandalize,  girls.     'Taint  perlite." 

And  the  retired  oysterman  swept  into  the  broad  aisle  with  his 
aristocratic  daughters,  turning  up  their  noses  with  the  most 
undisguised  contempt  at  the  plebeian  herd  of  literary  men,  artists, 
editors,  and  such  common  people,  who  had  no  sofas  and  were  obliged 
to  content  themselves  with  chairs  in  the  parquet. 

"  Well,  by  Jupiter  !"  said  Tom  Gingham,  a  young  "  gent"  with 
the  early  down  of  a  dawning  moustache  irradiating  as  with  a  streak 
of  faded  sunshine  his  auroral  mouth  ;  "  if  that  old  oyster-merchant 
and  his  frumpsey  daughters  don't  take  a  state  in  this  crowd  you  may 
kill  me  !     But  the  girl^  though,  has  an  arm  !     Eh,  Frank?" 

The  personage  appealed  to  as  Frank  was  a  very  tall,  lathy-looking 
individual,  dressed  to  death  in  black  and  white,  and  who  stood  as 
straight  as  if  he  had  swallowed  his  yardstick.  His  eyes  were  half 
closed,  and  the  sudden  question  of  his  companion  seemed  to  startle 
him  from  his  perpendicularity.  He  resci'cwed  his  little  black  quiz- 
zing-glass into  his  right  eye;  and  gently  dusting  his  patent  leathers 
with  a  spotless  handkerchief  perfumed  with  the  genuine  Jockey  Club, 
replied  solemnly, 

"  Y-a-a-s — that  is — con-siderably  !     Ehem !" 

The  house  was  all  light  and  perfume,  and  gentle  murmur  and 
excitement.  The  efforts  made  to  arouse  the  attention  of  the 
fashionable  world  had  been  successful,  and  all  who  claimed  to  move 


kina's  triumph.  81 

within  the  mystic  circle  that  separated  the  two  classes  of  society 
had  striven  to  be  present,  and  in  their  most  magnificent  attire.  In 
this  little  focus,  republicanism  gleamed  for  an  instant  with  all  the 
jeweled  and  full-blown  splendor  of  a  genuine  aristocracy*  The 
essence  of  the  whole  race,  from  Plymouth  Rock  to  the  Dickens'  ball, 
"waiS  here  concentrated.  And  in  truth  so  many  beautiful  women 
might  seldom  anywhere  be  seen  collected  together.  The  graceful, 
bird-like,  exquisitely-dressed  French  woman,  scintillating  amid  her 
circle  of  admirers — the  cold  and  stately  New- England  beauty,  with 
her  dazzling  complexion  and  glorious  form,  maddening  in  its  impla- 
cable repose — the  voluptuous  Italian,  undulating  like  waves  in  the 
bay  of  Venice — thi,  cherry-cheeked  descendant  of  the  Knickerbock- 
ers, placid,  cool  and  joyous — were  mingled  in  a  way  that  filled  the 
eye  and  brain  with  a  reeling  sense  of  intoxication.  The  whole 
theatre  looked  like  a  gigantic  vase,  overcrowded  with  flowers,  which 
had  become  suddenly  endowed  with  life — and  one  feared,  as  they 
fluttered  and  sparkled  beneath  the  golden-beamed  chandelier,  that 
they  were  about  to  take  wing  and  fly  away. 

At  length,  half  an  hour  after  the  time — for  people  who  generally 
are  very  much  hurried  with  their  affairs,  think  it  ill-breeding  to  be 
punctual  away  from  the  counting-house — the  overture  commenced, 
and  the  pretty  murmur  of  the  house  gradually  subsided  beneath  the 
measured  undulations  that  poured  out  beneath  the  waving  strokes  of 
the  Moses  in  a  white  cravat  and  jeweled  wand,  who  patiently  smote 
a  green  tin  candle-shade  for  a  rock,  until  the  whole  house  was  filled 
with  a  sea  of  melody. 

Nina  was  alone  in  the  little  dressing-room  adjoining  the  stage, 
and  whence  she  was  in  a  moment  to  issue  into  the  full  blaze  of  the 
brilliant  theatre.  Her  heart  beat  violently,  and  the  unusual  tight- 
ness with  which  her  corset  was  laced,  (as  is  the  custom  with  singers, 
who  erroneously  imagine  it  gives  them  greater  powers  of  enduring 
the  terrible  strain  of  a  night's  performance  upon  the  chest  and  lungs), 
had  driven  somewhat  too  much  blood  into  her  face,  and  rendered 
artificial  color  unnecessary.  She  had  judiciously  chosen  a  part  which 
required  but  the  simplest  costume  and  action  at  the  commencement 
— trusting  to  the  power  of  sympathetic  identification  with  the  char- 
acter for  strength  to  go  through  with  the  heavier  and  more  difficult 
scenes  at  the  close.  She  was  not  afraid — for  the  consciousness  of 
genius,  and  that  glow  of  inspiration  that  tinges  the  Italian  more  or 
less  brightly  in  all  situations  and  places,  imparted  a  confidence  for 
which  she  herself  could  scarcely  account.  She  felt  impatient  for  the 
preliminary  scene  to  be  over,  and  an  eagerness  to  enter  upon  that 
brilliant  but  dangerous  career,  up  whose  shining  pathway  gleamed 
the  temple  of  immortality.  For  the  first  time  in  her  life  her  spirit- 
ual being  was  fully  roused  within  her,  and  she  was  in  full  possession 
of  herself.  She  seemed  not  to  be  going  to  a  trial  but  a  triumph. 
And  as  at  last  the  scene  changed,  and  the  first  note  of  her  entering 
music  fell  upon  her  ear,  she  started  to  her  feet,  and  waving  her 


82  CELIO. 

hand  majestically,  as  if  to  bid  all  mean  and  common  aspirations 
adieu,  she  ran  from  her  room  and  plunged  into  the  light  that  levy 
in  blinding  sheets  upon  the  stage.  For  a  moment,  like  a  swimmer 
suddenly  entering  the  water,  she  reeled  and  caught  her  breath, 
stretching  out  her  arms  as  if  seeking  for  support.  But  the  gesture 
had  revealed  to  the  breathless  and  expectant  audience  the  exquisite 
grace  of  her  form,  while  her  wondrous  beauty  beamed  into  every 
heart  like  a  new-risen  star — and  a  storm  of  spontaneous  applause 
rose  from  the  house.  The  prompter  beneath  his  tin  umbrella  gave 
her  the  signal  to  go  on — the  conductor,  with  his  ruby-tipped  baton 
suspended  high  in  air,  waited  the  first  tone  of  her  recitative  ;  and, 
rallying  her  fading  energies,  she  speaking  sang ! 

At  first  her  voice  was  low  and  silvery,  gliding  from  note  to  note 
of  the  recitative,  brokenly  and  doubtfully,  as  a  little  rivulet  reaches 
murmuring  from  stone  to  stone.  But  gradually  the  brook  became  a 
river,  deepening  and  widening  as  it  went,  until,  suspended  in  a  long 
and  liquid  cadenza,  it  burst  forth  into  the  full  and  perfect  tide  of 
song.  The  novice  was  a  novice  no  more.  Her  bosom  already 
swelled  with  the  consciousness  of  triumph.  Her  voice,  sent  forth 
over  that  mute  and  rapt  audience,  returned  to  her  like  the  voice  of 
her  destiny,  laden  with  glorious  messages  of  greatness  yet  to  come. 
In  an  instant  the  immortal  winged  creature,  glorying  in  all  the  hues 
of  the  departed  sunbeam,  had  burst  her  chrysalis  and  floated  away 
toward  heaven. 

She  paused — and  for  a  moment  the  audience  suS'ered  themselves 
still  to  lie  in  the  trance  into  which  they  had  been  plunged.  All 
hearts  felt  alike  its  magic  influence.  The  cold  and  age-hardened 
thrilled  again  as  beneath  the  fire  of  youthful  love— the  young  wept 
with  excess  of  sympathy.  It  was  one  of  those  rare  moments  when  a 
spark  of  the  true  electricity  that  will  one  day  fire  all  hearts,  flashes 
across  the  dull  and  gloomy  horizon  of  life,  prophesying  of  the  beati- 
tudes of  the  future,  when  man  and  his  beautiful  world  shall  have 
been  reduced  to  harmony  and  order.  There  arose,  as  by  one  mag- 
netic impulse,  such  a  tumult  of  applauses  as  shook  the  very  dust 
from  the  astonished  folds  of  the  proscenium  curtain.  Men  and 
women  united  heartily  in  this  irrepressible  tribute  to  beauty  and 
genius ;  and  even  the  retired  oyster-merchant  deigned  to  smile  and 
gently  wave  his  hand,  as  if  beckoning  to  the  book-keeper  at  the 
establishment  down  town  to  charge  three  dozen  to  the  gentleman 
with  the  red  cravat — while  his  (laughters,  by  a  convulsive  efibrt, 
actually  succeeded  in  getting  further  out  of  their  frocks,  and  cried 
"  brayvo,"  in  utter  defiance  of  the  gender  of  Italian  adjectives,  and 
with  tlie  purest  Manhattanese  accent.  Everybody  Avas  enchanted — 
only  in  one  corner  of  the  parquet,  quite  down  by  the  orchestra  and 
half  liidden  by  the  entrance  to  the  nuisic-room,  stood  a  spare,  mel- 
ancholy, seedy-looking  individual,  with  an  immense  opera-glass,  and 
a  white  streak  perceptible  about  the  elbow  of  his  coat — who,  turn- 


Nina's  triumph.  83 

ing  to  another  gentleman  of  an  aspen-colored  countenance  and  a 
large  club  under  his  arm,  said, 

'^  Well,  for  my  part,  I  don't  know  what  they  are  all  making  such 
a  noise  about.     I  haven't  heard  any  thing  yet.     Have  you,  Jo  ?" 

"  Why  yes — Pvc  heard  a  develish  quantity  of  applause  for  noth- 
ing. But  what  can  you  expect  from  a  parcel  of  codfish  aristocracy? 
Do  you  know  that  this  Signorina  Screamiani  never  invited  me  to  her 
soiree  at  the  Astor?" 

"  Nor  me.'' 

"  Well — she'll  find  out,  perhaps,  who  are  the  real  friends  of  art 
in  New  York.  The  Saturday  Smasher,  shall  at  least  do  her  jus- 
tice." 

"  And  so  shall  the  Weekly  Gallinipper — let's  go  and  imbibe." 

But  notwithstanding  the  hostile  sentiments  of  the  Saturday 
Smasher  and  the  Weekly  Gallinipper,  the  success  of  the  new  prima 
donna  was  unequivocal.  All  the  leading  papers  vied  with  each 
other  in  their  laudatory  notices,  and  poured  out  column  upon  column 
of  adulation.  And  by  Wednesday  of  next  w^eek,  (then  the  weekly 
papers  dated  on  Saturday  all  went  to  press  on  that  day,)  even  the 
Gallinipper  and  Smasher  had  become  molified — or  thought  it  good 
policy  to  appear  so — and  joined  loudly  in  the  general  pulse. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 


A  Hint  for  old  Hays — How  to  track  a  fugitive — with  some 

VERY  WHOLESOME  REFLECTIONS  ON  THE  SUBJECT  OF  VENTILATION. 

The  STARCH  a  little  taken  OUT  OF  Mr.  Pipson. 

As  soon  as  Celio  had  got  rid  of  the  pertinacious  Mr.  Pipson  he 
he  bade  Nina  good-bye  ;  and  promising  to  return  in  a  few  hours, 
sallied  out  in  search  of  Mrs.  Carleton.  He  knew  that  Pipson  could 
not  disturb  the  premises,  at  least  for  that  day  ;  and  entertained  the 
most  intense  anxiety  to  trace  the  flight  of  Mrs.  Carleton — not  doubt- 
ing, for  a  moment,  that  he  should  be  able  to  persuade  her  to  recede 
from  her  resolution.  The  confession  of  love  whch  her  letter  contain- 
ed thrilled  him  with  a  nameless  and  indescribable  joy,  bathing  the 
whole  world  in  an  atmosphere  of  rosy  light.  As  we  have  said,  he  did 
not  yet  permit  himself  to  analyze  his  feelings — but  he  knew  he  was 
sublimely  happy. 

Another  source  of  intense  pleasure  was  his  now  altered  position  ; 
for  since  the  establishment  of  the  new  journal,  and  his  more  intimate 


84  CELIO. 

connexion  with  Captain  Earnest,  every  thing  had  prospered  with  him, 
and  he  began  to  find  friends,  credit  and  influence  accumulating  upon 
him  in  every  direction.  He  was  no  longer  the  poor  friendless  depen- 
dant and  slave-martyr  of  his  daily  and  nightly  toil.  It  is  true  he 
worked  hard  enough,  and  early  and  late.  But  he  was  never  outworn 
"with  his  labor, — because  his  heart  was  in  it.  His  whole  being,  am- 
.bitious,  restless,  eager  and  aspiring,  found  full  scope  for  the  play  of 
all  its  faculties  ;  and  the  mere  casual  weariness  of  the  frame,  which 
a  few  hours  would  restore,  was  not  even  worth  a  thought.  Now, 
that  the  woman  whom  he  adored  next  to  heaven — the  eidolon  of  his 
yearning  heart,  the  beau  ideal  formed  by  his  exquisite  spirit  as  its  own 
counterpart  and  fulfilment,  was  free  and  loved  him  ;  and  now  thajt 
she  was  in  exile  from  her  home,  perhaps  at  that  moment  the  slave  of 
voluntary  toil  and  want — how  swelled  his  heart  with  hope  and  trust 
and  gratitude,  that  he  had  it  in  his  power  to  soothe  her  sorrows  and 
protect  her  precious  life  from  every  harm  !  J^he  to  whose  starlike 
influences  over  him  he  owed  every  thing  he  was — even  himself — was 
now  in  affliction,  and  he  could  chase  the  cloud  away  !  Glorious,  tri- 
umphant thought !  And  in  that  moment  of  swelling  exultation  poor 
little  Nina  was  forgotten,  or  only  remembered  dimly  as  a  pleasant 
dream,  that  could  be  recalled  at  will.  And  yet  Celio  loved  Nina,  I 
firmly  believe,  more  deeply,  at  that  very  moment,  than  he  did  the 
absent  Adelaide.  But  a  strong  man's  soul,  like  the  largei  and  more 
perfect  planets,  desires  a  new  bride-moon  at  every  phase  of  its  heaven- 
sweeping  revolution — yet  it  is  ever  true  and  constant,  to  all,  each 
in  her  appointed  course  and  time — beaming  and  shining  and  lighting 
up  the  world  of  space. 

Celio  was  persuaded  that  Mrs.  Carleton  had  not  sought  an  asylum 
with  any  friend  in  her  own  rank— he  well  knew  that  her  pride  and 
sensitiveness  would  not  have  brooked  that  worst  of  humiliations,  the 
protection  of  our  equals.  He  questioned  the  porter  and  the  servants 
— no  one  had  seen  or  knew  anything  of  their  mistress,  and  did  not 
even  know  that  she  was  gone.  His  next  resort  was  the  cabs ;  and 
here  he  was  more  successful.  He  soon  found  that  a  cab  had  been 
driven  away  from  Mr.  Carleton's  early  in  the  morning,  and  had  been 
absent  but  a  short  time.  The  driver  was  not  now  on  the  stand,  but 
his  comrades  expected  him  momently.  Celio  reflected  that  at  that 
hour  neither  boat  nor  railroad  departed  ;  and  he  felt  an  inexpressible 
relief  at  discovering,  as  he  imagined,  that  the  object  of  his  search  had 
not  left  the  city.  The  driver  he  was  in  search  of  soon  came  back,  but 
seemed  very  shy  and  sullen.  Celio,  however,  was  not  a  novice  ;  and 
putting  a  half  eagle  into  the  fellow's  hand,  with  aproluise  of  as  much 
more  if  he  would  drive  to  the  place  where  he  had  conveyed  a  lady  at 
daylight  from  Mr.  Carleton's,  he  was  soon  rattling  at  a  funously-slow 
rate  (a  speed  peculiar  to  cabman,)  over  the  rolling  pavement  of  Green- 
wich street. 

Suffice  it  that  he  found  her,  in  the  home  of  her  laundress, — a  low, 
stifling  hut,  erected  by  the  griping  landlord  of  the  premises  in  the 


CELIO  DECLARES  HIS  LOVE  TO  MRS.  CARLETON.        85 

rear  of  the  main  building,  that  he  might  increase  his  rent  from  the 
lot,  while  rendering  both  front  and  rear  tenements  unfit  for  habita- 
tion, by  reason  of  the  want  of  space  and  ventilation.  They  make  it 
felony  to  sell  unwholesome  meats  ;  but  I  have  never  heard  of  any  law 
against  the  unwholesome,  deadly  dwellings  into  which  land-owners 
and  house-builders  cram  the  poor. 

But  CeUo  paused  not  now  to  notice  what  at  another  time  would* 
have  possessed  for  him  the  deepest  interest.  Stumbling  up  the  narrow 
and  tottering  stairway,  he  threw  open  the  little  door  of  the  room  where 
sat,  busily  sewing  and  her  gloriously  head  drooping  wearily  over  her 
work,  the  brave  Adelaide  Carleton.  Not  a  shadow  of  discontent  lay 
on  that  alabaster  brow — not  a  trace  of  repining  at  her  lot  obscured  tlje 
majestic  beauty  of  her  face.  She  had  decided  upon  her  course  with 
all  the  calmness  and  firmness  of  her  nature,  and  it  was  impossible 
for  her  to  quail  or  shrink  in  its  fulfillment.  With  truly  noble  hearts 
the  struggle  is  before  succumbing  to  the  inevitable— afterward  noth- 
ing ruffles  more  the  immortal  tranquility  of  the  subdued  sea. 

Adelaide  thought  she  had  taken  such  precaution  that  there  was  no 
possibility  of  her  being  discovered.  She  did  not  shrink  from  further 
intercourse  with  her  friends  from  any  abstract  feeling  of  misanthrope 
nor  any  fear  that  her  poverty  would  estrange  those  she  loved.  But 
she  felt  that  a  great  and  irrevocable  change  had  taken  place  in  her 
position  and  destiny — and  above  all  things  she  could  not  bear  the 
miserable  egotism  of  embarrassing  by  her  presence  those  whom  she 
could  no  longer  assist.  And  then  she  loved  Celio,  with  a  high,  pure 
and  holy  love,  as  chaste  as  the  moon  and  fervent  as  the  star  that  ever 
burns  and  worships  at  her  side.  She  had  satisfied  herself  that  Celio 
loved  Nina ;  and,  seeing  that  they  were  in  every  way  worthy  of  each 
other,  had  long  ago  schooled  her  heart  to  regard  them  as  one.  The 
temptation  of  giving  expression  to  her  love,  in  her  farewell  to  Celio, 
was  too  strong  for  human  nature  to  resist.  Annhilation  is  not  so  dread- 
ful a  fate  as  to  contemplate  the  possibility  of  dying  without  uttering 
the  love  that  embalms  the  heart  in  its  pure  flame.  The  soul  of  the 
lover  shudders  lest,  with  the  sweet  clue  all  unuttered  on  earth,  she 
should  lose  forever  her  sister  soul  in  the  spirit-world. 

So  secure  was  Mrs.  Carleton  in  the  secrecy  she  had  observed  in 
leaving  her  home,  that  she  did  not  even  look  up  from  her  work,  when 
Celio  first  entered  the  Uttle  room.  But  the  magnestism  of  his  pres- 
ence sought  its  way  electrically  to  her  heart ;  and,  forgetful  of  every 
thing  in  that  wild  thrill  of  delirious  rapture,  she  uttered  a  cry  of  joy, 
and  rushing  into  his  arms,  hid  her  eyes  in  his  bosom.  In  that  moment 
tKey  understood  each  other. 

But  she  almost  instantly  recovered  himself;  and  withdrawing  her- 
self hastily,  she  said,  almost  reproachfully, 

"  Oh,  Celio,  how  could  you  do  this  ?  How,  after  I  had  laid  my 
weak  women's  heart  bare  before  you,  how  could  you  hunt  me  out  and 
thus  bring  me  face  to  face  with  my  humiliation'?" 

"Talk  not  of  humiliation !     Mrs.  Carleton — Adelaide — my  soul's 


86  CELIO. 

bright  and  peerless  sister !  I  love  you  with  all  the  intensity  of  my  na- 
ture. Do  not  upbraid  me  but  destiny — for  she  it  is  who,  weary  at 
length  of  severing  souls  that  exist  but  in  each  other,  wills  that  we 
be  united  forever.     I  will  not  let  you  go — never,  never,  never!" 

Adelaide  was  frightened.  Siie  felt  all  the  glorj^  of  these  sweet 
confessions,  pervading  her  every  fibre  and  transfiguring  her  into  a 
goddess — but  she  felt,  too,  that  the  rapture  was  but  the  evanescent 
bliss  of  a  dream.  She  was  fully  persuaded  that  Celio  loved  the  gen- 
tle Nina,  and  that  it  was  her  solemn  duty  to  recall  him  to  himself. 
She  therefore  looked  at  him  a  moment  in  a  way  that  instantly  calmed 
his  transports ;   and  laying  her  hand  gravely  on  his  arm,  said  to  him, 

"  Ceho,  you  do  not  know  your  own  heart  so  well  as  I.  But  listen, 
further?  How  you  have  so  soon  discovered  me  baffles  my  coi:yec- 
ture — I  thought  I  had  made  every  thing  secure  ;  and  in  this  humble 
asylum  I  meant  to  have  lived,  peaceful  and  happy,  in  thinking  of  you 
and  my  beloved  Nina,  and  praying  for  your  happiness.  But  had  I 
believed  for  an  instant  that  I  was  not  bidding  you  farewell  forever, 
think  you,  with  the  chimes  of  my  husband's  funeral  knell  still  ringing 
in  my  ears,  I  would  have  spoken  to  you  of  love  1  Do  not  Celio,  do 
not  dare  to  deem  me  so  light  and  base.  We  are  not  for  each  other 
here  on  earth — hereafter !" 

Celio  was  quelled.  He  reflected  for  a  moment ;  and  then  looking 
up  cheerfully  and  with  his  old  bright  and  happy  smile,  he  said, 

"  I  have  been  wrong.  I  ought  to  have  respected  your  injunction 
and  not  intruded  upon  you.  But  I  was  for  once  overmastered  and 
borne  beyond  myself  by  an  intense  affliction  at  your  loss.  Forgive 
me,  and  make  me  but  tliis  one  promise — that  you  will  remain  here 
until  you  hear  from  me  again.  I  strongly  suspect  that  you  have  been 
wronged  out  of  what  is  justly  your  own,  and  I  claim  the  right  of  sift- 
ing the  affair  of  Pipson  to  the  bottom.  This  at  least  is  reasonable, 
and  you  cannot  refuse  me." 

"  I  promise." 

"  Farewell !"  was  then  uttered  simultaneously  by  each,  and  they 
stood  for  one  dangerous  moment  looking  into  one  another's  eyes. 
But  the  strong,  immutable  nobility  of  their  natures  triumphed  over 
the  returning  weakness  of  their  love.  Their  hands  met  for  an  in- 
stant, and  Adelaide  was  alone. 

Celio  hastened  instantly  to  his  friend  Earnest,  to  whom  he  told  all 
the  circumstances  of  Mrs.  Carleton  being  driven  from  her  home,  and 
Laving  taken  refuge  with  her  laundress — asking  his  advice  and 
assistance. 

''  Certainly,  my  good  Celio — such  cases  come  precisely  within  my 
special  jurisdiction.  I  am,  you  must  know,  a  sort  of  utilitarian  Don 
Quixotte,  always  ready  and  eager  to  do  a  real  good,  but  expendmg 
no  time  nor  strength  in  battling  windmills.  CarU'ton,  did  you  say  i 
What,  that  magnificent  creature  Adelaide  Carleton  turned  seamstress 
and  living  in  a  back  garret?  I  warrant  me  she  never  fluiched  from 
th(!  eliange,  or  I  have  miscalculated  Ikt  grossly.  What's  the  name 
of  L:ie  rascally  fellow  who  has  cheated  her?" 


MRS.    CARLETON's    RETURN.  8T 


•W' 


"  Pipson." 

"  Pipson  !     You  mean  to  say  that  Job  Pipson —  What  kind 

of  a  looking  man  is  he  ? — Slim,  sneaken,  false- toothed,  knavish  ? 
Hang  the  fellow,  it  must  be  he.  Here,  give  me  pen  and  ink— PH 
settle  his  business." 

Earnest  wrote  a  few  lines,  and  folding  the  note,  directed  it  to  "  Job 
Pipson,  Esq.,  No. — Wall  street."     He  handed  it  to  Celio  and  said, 

''  Take  that  letter  of  introduction — you'll  find  Mr.  Pipson  pliable 
enough,  I  think." 

"  But,  Captain  Earnest,  neither  Mrs.  Carleton  nor  myself  can 
permit  you  to  assume  any  responsibility  in  this  matter.  In  that 
respect  I  am  only  too  much  your  debtor.  I  only  asked  your  ad- 
vice." 

"  Read  the  note,  Celio — read  it." 

Celio  opened  the  note  to  Mr.  Pipson  and  read : 

"  Mr.  Job  Pipson  will  instantly  refrain  from  all  proceedings  on  the 
mortgage  he  holds  upon  the  residence  of  the  late  Mr.  Carleton,  and 
deliver  the  mortgage  to  my  friend  Celio — at  the  particular  desire  of 

Earnest." 

"  What  does  this  mean?" 

"  It  means  that  Mr.  Pipson  knows  me  to  be  aware  of  the  fraudu- 
lent practices  by  which  he  ruined  Mr.  Carleton,  and  dare  not  refuse 
this  slight  retribution.  There,  that  is  all — go  along  now,  and  get 
your  dear  friends  out  of  the  difficulty." 

It  is  not  necessary  for  the  reader,  who  is  as  well  acquainted  with 
Mr.  Job  Pipson  as  we  are,  to  follow  this  operation  further.  He 
already  knows  that  it  was  perfectily  successful.  Mr.  Pipson  raved 
and  stormed  and  grinned  horribly,  but  at  last  yielded  with  a  very 
bad  grace,  telling  Celio  that  he  would  be  sweetly  revenged  on  him 
some  day.  Celio  laughed,  and  hastened  to  Nina,  whom  he  rapidly 
made  acquainted  with  what  had  taken  place,  requesting  that  she 
should  accompany  him  to  Mrs.  Carleton,  and  aid  him  in  persuading 
her  to  return,  and  once  more  make  their  home  endurable. 

The  result  of  this  mission  of  love  was  scarcely  doubtful.  Although 
Mrs.  Carleton  resisted  long  and  steadily,  yet  the  solemn  assurance  of 
Celio  that  the  restoration  of  her  home  was  in  no  way  a  gift,  but 
simply  her  right — and  when  she  saw,  with  that  clear  penetration  for 
which  her  mind  was  distinguished,  how^  much  real  happiness  she 
might  confer  on  the  two  beings  whom  she  loved  best — she  yielded. 
And  ere  the  sun  went  down,  the  three  friends  were  united  in  that 
house  which  so  recently  had  been  the  house  of  mourning,  and  which 
stSll  contained  so  many  melancholy  associations. 


CELIO. 


CHAPTER  XV. 


A  CALL  UPON  SOME  OLD  FRIENDS.       NeW  PROJECTS  ON  FOOT.       SOME- 
THING WORTH    THE    ATTENTION   OF   Mr.    GrEELEY.       ThE  REASON 

WHY  Paddy  Rainbow  declined  taking  his  wife  with  him. 

Our  story  leads  us  once  more  to  the  quiet  old  house  near  the 
Tombs,  where  we  met  the  thieves  in  the  early  part  of  our  acquain- 
tance, and  where  Earnest  and  Mr.  Bunch,  had  their  sharp  and  dan- 
gerous conflict.  Now  also  it  was  night,  and  the  same  large  room  oc- 
cupied on  that  occasion  was  filled  with  nearly  the  same  company  as 
then.  Captain  Earnest,  however,  was  not  there  ;  and  the  others, 
instead  of  being  seated  in  order  about  the  table,  were  collected  in 
little  groups  in  different  parts  of  the  room,  talking  low  and  earnestly. 
In  one  of  the  largest  of  these  groups  the  tall  form  and  peculiar  harsh 
voice  of  him  who  bore  the  cognomen  of  the  Screech-Owl  were  very 
conspicuous ;  and  by  his  side,  and  evidently  on  the  best  terms  with 
him,  was  seated  Dandy  Jake — taking  little  part  himself  in  the  con- 
Tersation,  except  now  and  then  to  confirm  with  an  oath  something 
said  by  the  Screech-Owl.  To  one  at  all  accustomed  to  study  tones 
-and  manners,  it  was  clear  enough  that  these  two  men  had  a  secret 
understanding  with  each  other. 

''  Well,"  said  the  Screech-Owl,  as  if  continuing  and  reiterating  a 
a  point  that  had  been  disputed,  "  you  may  say  what  you  like.  I  say 
that  this  Captain  Earnest  is  a  suspicious  character  and  I  don't  know 
what  to  make  of  him.  I  don't  deny  that  he  always  has  made  fair 
distributions  and  has  always  been  ready  to  get  any  of  us  out  of  scrapes. 
But  that  ain't  the  point.  What  I  want  to  know  is  this — have  any  of 
you  ever  known  him  to  be  really  engaged  in  an  operation  ?" 

"  I  hain't,  and  I've  been  among  you  from  the  first,"  said  Dandy 
Jake. 

"  Has  anybody  ?"  repeated  the  Screech-Owl. 

Nobody  answered. 

''  Then  I  take  it  that's  proof  positive  of  what  I  say," — he  continued, 
triumphantly — '^  he  ain't  one  of  us,  that's  the  way  to  tell  it,  and  I've 
no  notion  of  remaining  in  his  power  any  longer." 

*'  Nor  I,"  chimed  in  Dandy  Jake.  '^  Who  knows  but  what  he  is 
only  a  stool-pigeon,  after  all  ?" 

"  Oh  no,  not  so  bad,"  said  a  fellow  who  had  not  before  spoken, 
and  whose  name  (at  least  professionally)  was  Tom  Flanders.  "  Re- 
member when  you  was  nabbed  about  the  Washington  Place  little 
affair.  There  wouldn't  have  been  no  sort  of  a  chance  for  you  if 
somebody  hadn't  mollified  Justice  Dinkum  and  sent  you  straw  bail 
in  the  very  nick  of  time." 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  Screech-Owl,  apparently  somewhat  abashed 
at  this,  "  I  don't  deny  the  Captain's  smartness  nor  his  good  faith. 


so  far.  All  I  say  is,  that  he  ain't  one  of  us,  and  has  never  dirtied 
his  fingers  with  any  real  work.  You'll  see  that  what  I  say  is  true 
before  long — mind  I  tell  you  !" 

"  I  wonder  what's  going  on  to-night,"  said  Dandy  Jake,  "  that 
he's  called  us  all  together  so  on  a  sudden." 

''  Well,"  said  the  pertinacious  Screech-Owl,  "  you  may  all  do  as 

you please ;  but  for  my  own  part  I'll  have  an  explanation  of  all 

mysteries  before  this  night  is  over,  or  there'll  be  the  devil  to  pay  and 
no  pitch  hot,  in  somebody's  camp."  And  elevating  his  tall  and  raw- 
boned  form  upon  its  pedestals,  he  stalked  slowely  across  the  room 
and  mingled  with  another  gi'oop  of  the  robbers,  to  endeavor  to  find  a 
a  better  reception  for  his  hints  again  Captain  Earnest.  But  the 
Captain's  superiority  in  every  way  over  these  men  had  been  so  con- 
tinually yet  unostentatiously  manifested,  and  so  often  asserted  and 
maintained  when  brought  in  question  in  the  earlier  part  of  their  in- 
tercourse, that  the  idea  of  any  thing  like  a  general  conspiracy  against 
his  rule  was  entirely  out  of  the  question.  Besides,  it  was  well  known 
that  the  Screech-Owl,  as  desperate  and  daring  a  thief  as  ever  robbed, 
had  aimed  at  the  leadership  of  the  band,  after  the  former  leader  wae 
nabbed,  and  that  he  had  entertained  a  jealousy  of  Earnest,  ever  since 
he  was  elected. 

Earnest  had  made  his  appearance  in  the  band  only  a  few  years  be- 
fore, nobody  could  scarce  tell  how.  But  his  keen  judgment  and 
shrewd  way  of  making  every  body  think  that  whatever  he  said  must 
be  right,  soon  won  his  way  to  the  leadership.  Yet — as  the  Screech- 
Owl  had  said — it  was  certainly  strange  that  the  Captain  had  never 
been  known  actively  to  participate  in  any  of  the  numerous  and  daring 
enterprises  of  the  band — and  had  always  made  himself  more  conspicu- 
ous in  directing  them  how  to  avoid  or  get  out  of  difficulties,  than  by 
any  direct  and  active  participation  in  the  regular  labors  of  his  haz- 
ardous profession.  But  he  was  in  all  things  a  man  of  such  cool  and 
indomitable  firmness,  and  had  shown  himself  master  of  such  incredible 
sources  of  aid  in  time  of  danger  to  his  troop,  that  no  one  thought  of 
questioning  him,  much  less  daring  to  disobey  his  commands.  The 
influence  he  at  once  acquired  and  continued  permanently  to  exert  over 
these  wild  and  lawless  men  was  a  mystery  not  to  be  accounted  for  on 
any  orthodox  principles  of  metaphysics.  Though  they  boasted — and 
otherwise  truly,  too — that  they  feared  nobody,  yet  they  feared  Ear- 
nest ;  and  though  the  buffets  of  the  world  and  the  hardening  influence 
of  their  profession  had  rendered  them  impervious  to  the  softer  emo- 
tions, yet  they  loved  him,  and  felt  even  a  portion  of  dignity  and  self- 
respect  while  they  were  in  the  presence.  This  it  was,  perhaps,  that 
gave  him  his  marvelous  influence  over  them.  He  was  a  link  that  still 
united  hem  with  humanity  ;  and  in  aggrandizing  his  virtues  to  them- 
selves they  felt  that  they  were  not  entirely  unworthy  to  be  called  men, 
because  he  still  neither  deserted  nor  denounced  them.  If  the  inmost 
heart  of  every  one  of  these  men  could  have  been  examined  it  would 
have  been  found  to  contain  an  ineradicable  sentiment  of  gratitude  to 


90  CELIO. 

this  man  Earnest  for  having  saved  them  from  utter  self-contempt. 
There  are  many  men  who  lack  conscientiousness  to  be  virtuous  under 
strong  temptation  to  sin — many  whose  tastes  and  appetites,  quite  dis- 
proportioned  to  their  means,  are  thus  induced  to  sin  in  order  to  grat- 
ify them — many  others  who,  with  intelligence  enough  to  see  the  hor- 
rible injustices  and  oppressions  of  society,  have  not  faith  and  purity 
enough  to  save  them  from  basely  and  meanly  taking  revenge  in 
their  own  person — while  hundreds  are  made  criminal  through  the 
influence  of  education  and  early  association — but  not  one  of  all  these 
various  classes  of  criminals  have  we  ever  met  who  would  not  have 
given  half  his  years  for  the  power  to  reacquire  the  respect  of  himself 
and  of  the  world.  But  the  argument  and  the  excuse  of  the:e  men  is 
ever  one  and  the  same,  and  ever  irresistable  :  ^'  I  have  no  character 
— nobody  would  give  me  work  or  place  confidence  in  me,  if  I  were  to 
return  to  the  world.  I  have  only  to  choose  between  begging,  starving 
and  stealing." 

But  I  am  not  going  to  repeat  all  the  admirable  doctrines  on  the 
subject  of  the  treatment  and  reform  of  criminals  which  have  begun  to 
take  liold  upon  the  hearts  of  the  Christian  world — with  whom  all  true 
reforms  ought  to  begin  and  by  whom  they  must  be  taken  up  before 
they  are  made  practical.  What  we  are  about  to  sketch  is  merely 
a  scene  from  real  life — not  strictly  accurate  in  all  its  details,  for  true 
Christian  chivalry  has  not  yet  become  embodied  in  individuals.  But 
the  sentiments  and  actions  attributed  to  my  characters  in  this  chapter 
have  been  really  expressed  and  performed ;  nor  is  there  any  reason 
to  doubt  that  the  actual  motives  of  the  actors  were  such  as  correspond 
with  the  occasion  and  the  circumstances. 

The  Screech-Owl,  perceiving  at  length  that  his  efforts  to  create  a 
general  feeling  against  Captain  Earnest  were  quite  futile,  gnawed  his 
fingers  in  silence,  meditating  on  some  vague  ideas  of  indiv^idual  aggran- 
dizement which  ever  fill  the  brain  of  the  ambitious,  but  which,  except 
when  here  and  there  accompanied  by  great  mental  power,  or  positive 
genius,  lead  to  nothing.  It  was  by  no  means  certain  that  the  con- 
spirator himself  would  have  dared  the  bold  step  of  heading  a  rebellion 
against  Earnest,  even  had  he  found  it  practicable.  The  allusion  of 
Tom  Flanders  to  the  service  which  Earnest  had  performed  for  the 
Screech-Owl  on  a  certain  occasion  of  great  stress  and  delicacy,  had 
not  been  without  its  effect  in  tempering  the  hostility  of  the  latter ; 
and  when  the  Captain  at  length  entered  the  room,  his  whilom  enemy 
was  well-nigh  become  self-pacified  and  reconciled  to  things  as  they 
were. 

Much  to  the  surprise  of  every  one.  Captain  Earnest  was  not 
alone.  A  handsome,  franklooking  young  man  attended  him,  and  as 
they  entered  met  witliout  flinching  the  threatening  and  fnnvning  looks 
thrown  upon  him  from  every  side.  There  was  nothing  defiant  in 
in  his  air  or  face — but  there  was  plainly  apparent  an  indomitable 
and  habitual  courage,  which  seemed  careless  or  ignorant  of  danger, 
and  could  not  stoop  to  tlie  egotism  of  being  concerned  about  himself. 


THE   CAPTAIN  INTRODUCES    HIS   FRIEND.  91 

Earnest  appeared  to  feel  that  some  explanation  was  due — or  was  at 
least  politic — and  moving  to  his  ac^justoracd  seat  at  the  head  of  the 
long  table  running  through  the  center  of  the  room,  he  said, 

"  Come  friends,  let  us  to  business,  if  you  please.  I  owe  you  an 
apology  for  being  so  late,  and  also  for  the  liberty  of  introducing  a 
stranger  to  our  assembly.  But  my  friend  Mr.  Merivalc,  here,  is  a 
gentleman  worthy  of  your  unltimated  confidence,  and  I  pledge  my  own 
life  for  his  good  faith.  Pray  treat  him  as  you  would  a  sworn  brother. 
Screech-Owl,  my  boy,  come  here  and  let  me  confide  to  you  the  task 
of  making  my  friend  at  home.  Mr.  Merivale,  Mr.  David  Barringer, 
my  best  friend — Mr.  Barringer,  Mr.  Merivale." 

This  cerimonious  and  deferential  speech  set  everything  all  right  in  a 
moment ;  and  the  politic  appeal  to  the  vanity  of  the  Screech-Owl — 
which  appeared  really  almost  the  result  of  divination  on  the  part  of 
Earnest — -restored  the  conspirator  to  the  warmest  and  most  unques- 
tioning allegiance.  The  little  bustle  occasioned  by  the  entrance  of 
Earnest  and  Merivale  and  the  coming  to  places  of  the  company  gra- 
dually subsided  until  all  was  profoundly  silent.  Then  Captain 
Earnest  rose,  very  deliberately,  and  with  an  air  as  if  he  felt  himself 
about  taking  some  step  of  great  consequence,  whose  results  were  by  no 
means  certain,  but  could  never  be  recalled.  There  was  something 
extremely  dignified,  patriarchal,  even  tender,  in  his  manner  ;  and 
his  voice,  when  he  at  length  spoke,  was  infirm  and  broken. 

"  My  friends,'  he  said,  "  I  have  called  you  together  this  evening 
to  make  to  you  a  communication  that  will  be  very  unexpected,  and  to 
submit  a  very  strange  proposition.  This  proposition  involves  a  total 
change  in  your  habits  of  life,  occupations  and  principles  ;  and  lest  you 
should  accuse  me  of  preaching,  I  will  explain  myself  as  briefly  as  I 
can.  At  present,  driven  by  the  shameless  oppression  and  injustice 
which  pervade  society  in  all  its  walks,  we  occupy  a  position  of  hos- 
tility to  the  world.  It  has  deprived  us  of  the  means  and  the  oppor- 
tunities of  being  honest  and  acquiring  a  livelihood  without  degradation. 
It  was  a  choice  simply  between  war  and  the  infamy  of  beggary.  If 
society  did  not  fear  us  it  would  contemn  and  loathe  us,  let  us  starve  and 
die  in  the  gutter.  It  was  not  doubtful  what  part  we  should  choose 
in  this  dilemma.  I  will  not  relate  the  history  in  detail  of  every  man 
here — but  I  know  it,  to  the  last  syllable,  and  I  think  I  also  know 
tiie  secret  emotions  and  sentiments  of  every  heart — therefore  I  have 
become  satisfied  that  there  is  none  who  would  not  willingly,  gladly, 
lay  down  his  arms  against  society,  if  he  could  be  secured  from  the 
evils  and  sufferings  which  first  induced  him  to  take  them  up.  You, 
David  Barringer,  I  know  well,  were  robbed  of  your  just  patrimony 
by  the  connivance  of  a  lawyer  with  the  public  administrator  of  your 
father's  estate,  and  sent  adrift  without  a  penny  and  with  a  blackened 
reputation — some  tools  of  the  robbers  having  made  you  intoxicated 
and  got  you  conveyed  to  the  Police  Office  as  a  vagrant.  You  had 
just  come  ashore  from  a  runaway  apprenticeship  at  sea,  where  you 
were  beaten  twice  a  week  and  starved  on  rancid  junk  and  measly 


*2 


CELIO. 


biscuit.  Between  the  tyranny  of  the  sea  and  the  injustice  ashore, 
you  were  forced  to  despair.  In  the  Tombs  you  came  in  contact  with 
some  veterans  in  the  war,  who  found  you  apt  and  willing  to  enlist. 
Who  can  blame  you?     Not  I. 

"  And  you,  Tom  Flanders,  I  can  tell  your  story  in  quite  as  few 
words.  Your  wife  got  sick,  and  in  recovering,  fell  in  love  with  her 
doctor,  and  stealing  all  the  cash  and  converting  all  your  fine  furniture 
into  money,  while  you  were  absent,  the  pair  ran  away  and  left  you 
to  return  to  a  cold  hearthstone  and  a  dishonored  bed.  You  bore  up 
stoutly  awhile  for  the  sake  of  your  little  girl,  but  she  soon  withered 
and  pined  into  her  grave  for  lack  of  a  mother's  nursing  care,  and 
then  you  took  to  the  coffee-house.  Of  course  your  business  and 
money  were  soon  gone,  and  you  sunk  from  the  gilded  splendor  of 
Florence's  to  the  weather-beaten  squalor  of  Pete  Williams'.  For- 
tunately you  here  fell  in  with  a  shrewd  and  experienced  old  Kracks- 
man,  who  saw  what  was  in  you — taught  the  necessity  of  temperance 
if  you  would  rise  in  the  world,  and  showed  you  the  way  to  avenge 
yourself  on  society  at  large  for  your  fearful  wrongs. 

"  But  I  need  not  go  on.  I  have  said  that  I  know  the  history  of 
you  all ;  and  I  now  declare  that  a  company  of  nobler  or  truer  hearts 
than  yours  cannot  be  found  on  the  globe.  I  have  been  with  you  and 
watched  you  well,  and  never  have  I  seen  you  swerve  one  hair's  breadth 
from  the  strict  and  honorable  discharge  of  the  obligations  you  have 
imposed  upon  yourselves — obligations  in  comparison  with  which  those 
of  society  are  of  less  than  a  feather's  weight.  And  now,  listen  to 
me  well. 

"  I  entered  this  honorable  community  not  from  necessity  nor  to 
gratify  any  especial  revenge  against  society.  It  is  true  I  have  been 
wronged,  deeply  and  irreparably,  but  not  in  a  way  that  could  make 
me  turn  against  the  world  at  large.  But  I  entered  into  this  life  sole- 
ly for  the  purpose  of  testing  and  carrying  out  my  theory  of  the 
nature  of  man  and  the  false  organization  of  society.  I  have  never 
failed  to  receive  my  fair  proportion  of  the  fruits  of  our  depredations 
— but  every  dollar  of  it  has  been  scrupulously  appropriated  to  an 
object  concerning  the  general  good.  That  object  is  at  length  accom- 
plished— at  least  so  far  as  I  am  concerned — and  I  have  now  only  to 
make  you  acquainted  \^ith  it  and  see  if  you  approve.  If  so,  our  in- 
tercourse continues  unbroken.  If  not,  this  night  I  meet  you  for  the 
last  time. 

"  In  a  lovely  and  fruitful  valley,  lying  along  the  bank  of  a  romantic 
stream,  I  have  built  a  spacious  edifice,  with  ample  accommodations 
for  every  member  of  the  band,  and  his  wife  and  children,  if  he  has 
them  or  should  hereafter.  This  dwelling  is  surrounded  ])y  Avorkshops 
of  nearly  every  description  and  furnished  with  an  abuiidaiic!'  of  tools 
and  materials.  Am]>le  arangenients  for  schooling  and  education, 
physical  as  well  as  mental,  are  provided.  A  physician  of  great  skill 
and  experience  is  ready  to  attend  the  sick  at  all  times  without  fee, 
and  there  is  a  public  hall,  provided  with  every  thing  suitable  for  read- 


CAPTAIN   EAR] 

ing  and  amusement.  Surroiuwing  those  buildings  lies  a  large  and 
excellent  farm,  containing  a  'great  variety  of  soil,  and  provided  with 
an  experienced  agriculturist  and  with  every  appliance  for  carrying  on 
farming  upon  a  grand  scale. 

"  This  establishment  is  yours.  It  is  my  free  gift  to  my  faitliful  and 
trusty  companions  of  many  years.  You  are  at  liberty  to  do  with  it 
as  you  will — only  not  to  part  with  it.  My  desire  and  hope  is  that  you 
will  remove  there  at  once  and  take  possession  of  its  handsome  and 
comfortable  apartments,  apportioning  them  by  lot.  Let  me  recom- 
mend, however,  that  in  this  as  in  all  the  other  distributions  necessary, 
each  one  should  endeavor  to  gratify  his  neighbor  rather  than  himself. 
It  is  incredible  how  happy  this  noble  emulation  will  make  every  one 
privileged  to  indulge  in  it.  In  the  world  every  one  is  for  himself  and 
against  every  one  else — obliged  to  labor  inces^ntly  at  the  same  dull 
employment  till  it  becomes  irksome  and  disgusting — and  continually 
in  fear  lest  a  lack  of  work,  or  the  invention  of  some  new  machine,  or 
a  few  days  of  sickness,  will  deprive  him  of  bread  and  a  roof  to  shelter 
him.  Let  our  new  community  be  the  reverse  to  all  this.  Instead 
of  selfishness  let  us  take  brotherhood  for  our  ruling  principle — let  us 
distribute  ourselves  according  to  our  capacities  and  inclinations,  in 
the  workshop,  in  the  school-room  or  the  field — changing  from  one  to 
the  other,  whenever  the  inclination  possesses  us.  In  every  department 
of  labor  a  strict  account  will  be  kept  by  the  leader  elected  by  all  en- 
gaged in  that  department,  of  the  labor  performed  by  each.  An  ac- 
count of  articles  consumed  by  every  individual  will  also  be  kept, 
charged  at  exactly  the  cost  of  production  or  purchase — and  at  the  end 
of  the  year  every  man's  account  shall  be  squared  and  the  balance  paid 
over  or  passed  to  his  credit.  Should  any  be  sick  or  indolent,  or 
from  any  other  cause  neglect  to  work,  let  a  sufficient  provision  for 
his  support  be  made  from  the  general  stock — you  will  find  that  it  will 
be  ample. 

"  Do  you  accept?" 

Oh,  if  the  faces  of  those  hardy  men  could  have  been  daguerreotyped 
then,  as  they  were  upturned  in  the  light  toward  Earnest,  we  would 
have  a  new  idea  of  the  power  of  expression  in  the  human  countenance 
— an  inexhaustible  study  for  painters,  sculptors  and  actors,  in  all 
time — models  before  which  the  antiques  would  appear  but  hard  and 
cold.  At  first  they  appeared  quite  amazed  ^nd  bewildered — but  as 
they  began  to  gather  the  meaning  of  what  Earnest  was  saying,  their 
countenances  underwent  a  kind  of  change,  as  if  a  dead  odious  mask 
were  to  become  by  degrees  a  living,  placid,  agreeable  and  loving  face. 
When  he  had  finished,  they  crowded  round  him,  some  in  tears,  and 
hugged  him  and  kissed  his  hands,  and  lavished  the  tenderest  epithets 
upon  him.  They  were  no  longer  men — they  were  little  children, 
full  of  love  and  hope  and  faith  and  gratitude,  ready  to  commence  life 
anew. 

At  length,  after  the  excitement  had  a  little  subsided,  Barringer, 
who  always-  occupied  a  sort  of  position  as  spokesman  among  his  fel- 
lows, said. 


94  CELIO. 

*  "  But  Captain,  I  have  a  few  words  to  say,  before  I  can  accept  my 
share  of  the  certain  happiness  you  offer  us.  It  is  a  confession  I  have 
to  make.  No  longer  ago  than  this  very  evening  I  have  been  slander- 
ing you  in  the  foulest  way,  and  trying  to  get  up  a  party  in  the  band 
against  you.  I  will  own  everything.  I  was  mostly  led  on  to  this  by 
my  ambition,  hoping  one  day  to  be  captain  in  your  stead — but  I 
partly  did  suspect  you  of  not  being  one  of  us,  and  of  playing  some 
big  game.  If  I  had  known  what  kind  of  a  game  it  was  you  were 
playing,  I  wouldn't  have  had  this  confession  to  make — that's  all." 

"  My  dear  Barringer,"  said  Earnest,  with  a  cordial  smile  and  ex- 
teflding  his  hand  to  the  other ;  "  don't  say  a  word  more  about  it. 
That  was  all  natural  enough ;  and  in  fact  I  have  been  apparently  so 
neglectful  of  late  that  I  wonder  you  haven't  ousted  me  and  spotted 
me  long  ago.  However,  I  have  never  forgotten  you.  Is  there  any 
one  to  object  to  the  plan  I  propose  ?" 

"  Not  one — not  one." 

"Very  good — then  we  will  commence  our  preparations  to-morrow. 
The  season  is  already  getting  late — but  we  shall  find  the  crops  and 
every  thing  properly  attended  to  when  we  arrive.  We  will  be  very 
quiet  about  it,  and  move  off  one  or  two  at  a  time.  I  have  here  a  little 
note  of  directions  for  each  one,  which  will  give  you  all  necessary  in- 
formation. Does  any  body  want  money  to  get  ready  with  ]  Mind, 
no  more  black  mail !" 

"  Yer  honor,"  said  a  small  bandy-legged  Irishman,  who  was  known 
in  the  company,  (probably  on  account  of  the  semicircular  arrangement 
of  his  pins),  as  Paddy  Rainbow — "  will  I  be  obleegated  to  take  Molly 
with  me  till  paradise  ?" 

"  Why,  Pat,  what's  the  matter  ?  You  haven't  fallen  out  with  your 
wife  so  soon,  I  hope  1" 

"  No,  faith,  yer  honor,  devil  a  bit  of  it — she  kicked  me  out.  Oh 
but  she's  one  of  'em  !" 

"  Well,  in  that  case  I  should  advise  you  to  let  her  remain.  Turn 
her  over  to  me,  I'll  take  care  of  her." 

"  Whoop  !  Tar  and  tatics,  but  that's  a  good  one  !  May  the  Lord 
presarve  ye  from  it!" 

"  Why,  Pat — you  don't  think  I'd  harm  her,  do  you?" 

''  Is  it  harm  her,  yer  honor?  Divil  a  harm  would  ye  do  to  a  flay, 
and  that  I  know  well  enough.  Be  she'd  harm  you,  to  the  killing  of 
ye — nothing,  surer." 

"  Well  as  you  please.  Take  her  or  leave  her ;  but  I  give  you  fair 
notice  that  if  you  don't  take  her  I  will.     So  don't  be  jealous,  Pat !" 

"  Never  fear  me,  your  honor's  worship — I'm  not  given  to  that 
same  small  potaty  vice  of  jealousy.  But  if  ye  pacify  Moll,  ye'U  be 
the  Ould  Gintleman  himself,  and  nothing  shorter.'' 

Earnest  smiled  again — and  Merivale,  who  had  been  watching  the 
proceedings  in  profound  but  attentive  silence  during  the  evening, 
laughed  aloud,  and  in  so  joyous  and  hearty  a  tone  as  immediately 
won  the  confidence  of  all. 


THE  captain's  PROPOSITION   ACCEPTED.  95 

"  Ye  arc  a  foolosopher,  belike,  sir?"  inquired  Paddy  Rainbow,  in 
a  tone  half  timid  and  half  quizzical,  that  species  of  humorous  half- 
and-half  which  nobody  but  an  Irishman  can  successfully  compound. 
"  But  Avhatever  ye  are,  it's  enough  that  ye  are  wid  him  to  tell  us 
ye'r  a  good  one  any  how.     God  bless  yer  honor  !" 

"  Thank  you,  my  good  fellow,  a  thousand  times.  Though  I  am 
an  entire  stranger  here,  I  Avant  to  ask  a  question  or  two  of  this 
honorable  company,  that  has  something  to  do  with  the  matter  in  hand. 
You  must  know,"  be  continued,  with  a  peculiar  little  grimace,  "  that 
I  am  a  great  temperance  man,  although  not  exactly  a  Father  Matthew  ; 
and  I  take  the  liberty  of  inquiring  whether  any  body  here  is  in  the 
habit  of  taking  too  much  drink.  Because  one  such  man  would  endanger 
the  entire  success  of  the  experiment  you  are  about  to  commence. 
If  there's  one  such  man  in  this  company  I  pledge  myself  to  take 
charge  of  him,  feed  him  and  clothe  him  and  have  him  provided 
with  every  attendance,  so  that  he  may  gradually  quit  drink  and  re- 
store his  system  to  its  natural  condition,  after  which  he  shall  be  at 
liberty  to  take  his  place  in  the  Home." 

''  Why,  yer  honor,"  replied  Paddy,  still  constituting  himself 
spokesman,  "a  many  of  us  used  to  do  that  thing  before  we  entered 
here.  But  in  our  profession  much  drink  don't  do,  you  understand. 
All  the  incurables  have  been  sent  away  long  ago.  There  isn't  a 
man  in  the  band,  now,  that  takes  too  much  of  the  crater — except  it 
be  my  Moll." 

This  genuine  Irish  bull  was  received  with  a  hearty  laugh  all  round, 
and  Merivale  and  his  friend,  after  appointing  to  meet  them  at  their 
new  home  in  a  fortnight,  bid  the  company  good  night,  and  departed 
homeward. 

"•  Are  you  tired  enough  for  to-night  ?"  inquired  Earnest,  '"'  or 
would  you  see  more  ?" 

"  Such  scenes  do  not  weary,"  replied  Merivale — "  they  only  sup- 
ply the  soul  with  needed  hope  and  strength.  But  what  other  wonders 
have  you  in  store  for  me  ?" 

"  Oh,  a  great  variety — '  for  particulars  see  small  bills,'  as  the 
showmen  say.  But  suppose  we  call  on  my  friend  and  protege,  Celio, 
at  the  newspaper  office  ?  I  wish  you  to  know  him  well  and  help  me 
to  study  him.  He  has  some  weaknesses  and  vanities,  not  yet  turned 
exactly  in  the  right  direction  ;  but  if  I  am  not  mistaken,  he  is  one  of 
the  choicest  spirits  of  earth,  ^e  is  just  now  much  perplexed  between 
a  couple  of  beautiful  women,  both  of  whom  love  him  to  distraction. 
He  is  in  a  great  doubt  which  of  them  he  himself  loves  best — and  that 
is  the  best  evidence  in  the  world  that  he  loves  neither.  But  he's  a 
glorious  fellow." 

*'  Where  did  you  encounter  him?" 

"  Oh  at  a  soiree  of  the  blue-stockings  in  IndigO  Place,  where  I 
sometimes  go  to  amuse  myself  and  study  human  nature.  By  the 
way,  this  is  the  very  night — although  I  don't  know  but  it  may  be  too 
early  in  the  season.     Suppose  we  go?" 


96 


CELIO. 


"  What,  in  boots  and  bernous  ?" 

"  Oh  yes — so  much  the  better.  They  don't  mind  any  thing  a  lit- 
tle eccentric — indeed,  it  is  rather  a  recommendation." 

"  Well,  agreed.  Nothing  could  be  more  charming  than  to  meet 
all  the  great  men  and  women  of  the  metropolis,  as  it  were,  in  dis- 
habille." 

''  Don't  imagine  too  much,"  said  Earnest,  laughing. 

''  Never  fear,  it  would  be  a  pity  if  I  could  not  recognize  the  Nine 
Muses  and  a  respectable  list  of  deities  in  a  company  of  the  literary 
lions  and  lionesses  of  New  York.     Mlons  /" 

"  Come,  then — and  it  is  very  possible  that  we  shall  meet  Celio 
there  too.     He  has  nothing  to  keep  him  at  the  office  to-night." 


CHAPTER  XVI. 
A  Peep  behind  the  Scenes,  and  an  Introduction  to  one  of 

THE  YOUNG  SPROUTS  OF  NeW  YoRK  AriSTOCRACY. 

Celio  lived  in  a  world  of  dreams,  through  whose  vague  horizon 
floated  two  twin  stars  of  lustrous  beauty,  gazing  upon  which  his  soul 
grew  intoxicated  with  love.  But  he  loved  not  them — their  presence 
had  wakened  to  life  the  Spirit  of  Love  that  slumbered  in  his  soul. 
Once  aroused,  the  restless  and  impatient  motions  of  this  spirit  filled 
the  air  with  a  rosy  flame,  through  which  all  objects  were  reflected 
in  false  and  high-colored  lights.  This  Celio  knew  not,  and  thought 
he  loved  both  Adelaide  and  Nina — yet  much  wondered  at  tlie  equality 
and  divisibility  of  his  emotions,  and  their  utter  hick  of  intensity. 
Mrs.  Carletort,  whose  soul  was  as  capacious  and  lofty  as  his  own, 
knew  and  felt  all  this,  in  respect  to  herself.  She  was  conscious  that 
Celio  loved  not  her ;  the  struggle  had  already  passc^d  in  her  bosom 
and  she  was  no  more  but  the  tender,  careful,  watchful,  self-sacrificing 
friend.  But  she  was  lierself  deceived  as  to  Cello's  feelings  towards 
Nina.  This  beautiful  Italian  was  such  a  joyous  and  fascinating 
creature — so  childlike  in  her  playful  and  exuberant  innocence — and 
1^'T  relations  to  Celio  were  of  such  a  tender  nature,  that  Mrs.  Carle- 
ton  took  it  for  granted  that  they  must  love  each  other.  But  it  was 
certain  that  Cc'lio's  inmost  heart  had  not  yet  been  touched.  It  is 
true  that  both  Adelaide  and  Nina  ])0werfully  excited  his  love  for 
woman — because  woman  is  the  embodiment  of  the  Beautiful,  whence 
natures  like  his  ever  seek  to  draw  their  sustenance.  But  it  was  also 
true — and  this  precious  secret  was  as  yet  unknown  even  to  himself — 


Nina's  professional  life.  97 

'that  there  was  in  the  depths  of  his  soul  a  still  more  secret  and  ex- 
quisite passion — the  love  of  one  women  forever  to  be  conjoined  to 
to  his  spiritual  life — which  still  slumbered  undisturbed.  Oh,  the  im- 
perious, insatiate  heart  of  man  !  Exacting  the  love  and  worship  of 
woman  as  its  common  element,  yet  liesitating,  reluctant  to  yield  it- 
self in  return — and  perhaps  never  yielding  itself  fully  until  the  sweet 
magnetic  sympathies  of  the  gentle  and  beautiful  other  half  of  itself 
have  by  long  and  patient  intercourse  drawn  it  into  the  full  fruition  of 
its  happiness ! 

The  professional  life  of  Nina,  which  had  commenced  under  such 
brilliant  auspicious,  wrought  many  indispensible  changes  in  her  habits 
and  associations  and  perhaps  even  her  feelings.  Heretofore  she  had 
lived  so  much  in  retirement  that  her  character  was  as  undeveloped  as  a 
child's.  She  was  affectionate,  kind  and  benevolent,  not  impatient  of 
of  control,  eager  to  learn  and  grateful  to  whoever  imparted  aught 
to  her  of  knowledge.  But  this  was  the  spiritual  view  of  her  organ- 
ization. Those  who  had  studied  her  carefully  knew  well  that  a  lofty 
ambition,  a  scornful  pride,  an  impatient  intellect  and  many  a  fiery 
passion-storm  lay  folded  in  the  earthly  portion  of  her  being.  Upon 
being  thrown  more  in  contact  with  strangers,  since  her  entrance  upon 
the  stage,  these  qualities,  heretofore  dormant,  had  been  on  more  than 
one  occasion  called  into  active  play.  She  found  life  behind  the  cur- 
tain even  more  deplorably  hollow,  vulgar  and  depraved  than  it  had 
been  represented  to  her,  and  from  the  first  hour  of  her  entrance  upon 
that  scene,  so  full  of  enchanting  illusions  to  the  uninitiated,  she  had 
instinctively  imbibed  a  disgust  which  extended  to  all  things  and  every 
one  connected  with  it.  This  feeling  she  w^as  too  artless  and  too  in- 
experienced to  attempt  to  conceal,  and  the  immediate  consequence 
was  that  she  became  the  object  of  the  bitterest  jealously  and  hatred 
of  the  sisterhood  of  the  green-room,  who,  from  imprimara  to  chorus- 
girl,  forgot  for  the  once  their  perpetual  and  fierce  wranglings  to 
concentrate  their  forces  upon  the  "  upstart  amateur"  who  had  come 
among  them  as  if  for  no  other  purpose  than  to  show  how  thoroughly 
she  considered  herself  above  them. 

Talk  of  the  Cinq-Mars  conspiracy  and  the  gunpowder  plot ! — They, 
and  all  such  masculine  affairs,  are  mere  pretty  pastimes  to  a  cabal  of 
women  against  one  of  their  own  sex.  The  female  bosom,  home  of 
all  gentleness  and  kindly  sympathies  as  it  is— when  the  owner  of  the 
beautiful  domain  is  permitted  to  have  her  own  way  in  every  thing — 
the  instant  she  conceives  an  idea  that  a  rival  is  to  be  preferred  to 
herself,  any  where  or  by  any  body,  becomes  at  once  the  birthplace 
of  a  hate  so  deadly  and  unscrupulous,  and  at  the  same  time  so  cun- 
ning, that  its  victim,  however  pure  or  innocent,  may  well  despair  of 
all  escape.  Deprived  by  her  unnatural  and  degraded  social  position 
of  all  responsibility  for  her  words  and  acts,  short  of  absolute  felony, 
she  knows  nothing  of  that  innate  sense  of  honor  which,  even  among 
the  worst  of  men,  is  never  forfeited.  A  woman  jealous  of  the  love 
or  favor  bestowed  upon  another,  (whether  she  has  any  right  to  claim 


98  CELIO. 

them  for  herself  or  not,)  is  the  most  malignant  and  remorseless  of 
fiends ;  and  the  Greeks  exhibited  their  usual  clear-sightedness  in 
making  the  furies  to  consist  of  -women  who  had  been  slighted  and 
whose  great  rage  thereat  thirsted  for  the  torture  of  all  created  beings. 
There  is,  of  course,  a  class  of  women — angels,  rather — with  whom 
selfishness  not  being  the  leading  principle  of  action,  who  take  delight 
mostly  in  promoting  the  happiness  of  others  ;  and  with  them  rivalry 
or  jealously  is  unknown.  But  they  are  rare,  and  are  mostly  found 
in  the  quiet  solitudes  of  domestic  life,  away  from  the  glittering  war 
of  fashion,  ambition  and  personal  rivalry. 

Although  fashionable  society,  as  it  is  at  present  constituted, 
abounds  in  incidents  the  situations  calculated  to  develop  and  strengthen 
the  growth  of  the  worst  traits  in  the  female  character — while  its  re- 
wards are  miserably  incommensurate  with  the  sacrifices  of  health, 
life  and  character  it  continually  demands — yet  it  is  only  among  pro- 
fessional women,  after  the  curtain  has  fallen  upon  the  scene  of  their 
glaring  and  hollow  triumphs,  that  the  devil  of  female  depravity  walks 
bodly  forth  in  all  his  horrors.  Then,  could  we  be  permitted  to  be- 
come spectators,  we  should  be  deeply  impressed  with  the  pregnant 
truth  of  Fourier's  apparently  whimsicial  conceit  of  the  doctrine  of 
inversions.  For  we  are  certain  that  a  company  of  actresses  quar- 
relling over  the  bouquets  and  garlands  that  have  fallen  promiscuously 
at  their  feet  during  the  performance,  would  give  any  one  a  complete 
and  perfect  idea  of  inverted  angels — that  is,  devils  ! 

The  Italian  opera-house  at  which  Nina  had  made  her  dehut  pos- 
sessed in  its  perfection,  this  detestable  espirit  du  corps,  which  rightly 
directed  might  be  made  to  produce  the  most  beautiful  results,  but 
which  in  its  present  state  of  manifestation  is  the  bane  of  artist-life 
and  the  belittler  of  art.  It  seems  that  in  the  closet  of  the  author,  the 
studio  of  the  painter  and  the  green-room  of  the  theatre  all  knowledge 
of  the  distinction  between  emulation  and  envy  is  lost,  and  that  the 
base  and  grovelling  sentiment  has  everywhere  taken  the  place  of  the 
lofty  and  ennobling  passion.  Instead  of  ambition  for  the  grand  effects 
of  the  beautiful,  our  artists  are  only  envious  of  each  other's  slightest 
successes  ;  and  for  the  glorious  emulation  of  trying  who  can  do  the 
best  they  have  substituted  a  jealous  watchfulness  as  to  who  is  likely  to 
fare  the  best.  All  the  pleasure  arising  in  the  artist's  soul  from  the 
consciousness  of  having  produced  something  worthy,  iB  changed  to  bit- 
terness if  he  hear  of  a  word  or  line  of  praise  bestowed  on  a  rival.  And 
to  such  absurd,  such  truly  diabolical  lengths  is  this  carried  that  it 
not  unfrequcntly  degenerates  into  the  fiercest  and  deadliest  personal 
feud — ending  even  in  ])lood  and  horror  and  death  ! 

And  yet — ^^good  God  !  How  easy,  how  natural,  how  beautiful  would 
it  be  if  these  artists,  both  male  and  female — these  favored  inheritors 
of  the  magic  gift  of  genius,  beneath  whose  spells  a  universe  of  en- 
chanted delights  springs  up  around  them — ^could  be  made  sensible  of 
the  high  and  holy  trusts  which  have  been  confided  to  them  for  the 
well-being  and  the  spiritual  development  of  mankind  !      For  it  is  to 


CHARACTER    OF    NIXA.  99^ 

the  artist — the  poet,  the  painter,  the  sculptor,  musician,  actor,  orator 
— that  belongs  the  task  of  refining  and  spiritualizing  the  race  up  to 
that  point  at  which  the  magnetism  of  the  Beautiful  may  pierce  through 
their  souls  and  hold  the  gold  and  silver  of  their  natures  steadily  point- 
ing in  the  direction  of  heaven  and  sunrise*.  Racks  and  dungeons 
and  gibbets  have  done  their  work  for  thousands  of  years,  and  yet 
their  millions  of  victims  serve  not  to  warn  mankind  from  vit^ious 
courses,  but  only  to  furnish  evidence  to  sustain  the  false  and  damn- 
ing doctrine  of  man's  involuntary  depravity.  But  the  milder,  tli^ 
softening,  the  purifying  influences  of  the  Beautiful  are  yet  to  penetrate 
man's  heart  as  with  electric  fire,  refining  and  ennobling  the  gross  ore 
till  the  pure  and  spotless  gold  shines  out  undimmed.  It  is  alone  to 
the  fine  arts — which  we  are  taught  to  regard  as  the  useless  things  of 
life — that  we  are  to  look  for  that  one  all  embracing  lesson  that  true 
life  is  consecrated  to  the  useful — to  that  highest  of  all  uses,  provi- 
ding for  the  good  of  others.' 

But  how  miserably  unconscious  of  their  high  destiny  a;i)pear  to  be 
the  great  majority  of  the  children  of  art !  Quarrelling  over  every 
morsel  of  praise— w;atcliing  eagerly  lest  some  brother  or  sister  shall 
obtain  a  temporary  advantage  over  them  in  the  position  of  a  picture 
or  the  relative  size  of  the  type  in  which  their  names  are  printed,  toady- 
ing, beslavering  their  superiors  while  trampling  scornfully  to  earth 
every  new  aspirant  who  seeks  to  come  after  them — prostituting  their 
talent  for  money  or  personal  favor — they  degrade  the  sacred  cause 
of  art  to  the  mercenary  level  of  the  lawyer  or  the  mountebank,  who 
expends  his  adroitest  tricks  and  choicest  grimaces  to  whomsoever 
will  give  him  the  gold  for  which  his  depraved  soul  longs. 

Nina  had  suffered  an  abrupt  and  cruel  change  in  her  whole  manner 
of  existence  from  the  moment  she  entered  the  opera-house.  Her 
childhood,  spent  in  happy  and  innocent  seclusion  with  her  father, 
lived  in  her  memory  only  as  a  soft-colored  dream,  recalled  with  a 
tearful  rapture  that  left  a  holy  thrill  behind.  And  since  her  resi- 
dence with  Mrs.  Carleton  she  had  been  treated  with  all  the  tender 
and  delicate  consideration  of  a  daughter :  so  that,  until  the  com- 
mencement of  her  theatrical  career  she  had  never  heard  the  voice  of 
envy  or  jealously,  and  was  seraphically  innocent  of  the  black  crime 
of  jealousy,  or  even  of  knowing  what  it  was.  If  the  reader  has  formed 
any  adequate  idea  of  the  the  character  of  Adelaide  Carleton  he  will 
not  need  to  be  told  that  among  the  few  things  of  which  her  lofty  and 
powerful  nature  was  incapable  were  envy  and  jealousy.  It  is  true 
that  in  spite  of  herself  she  loved  Celio,  wholly  and  worshipfully,  as 
woman  loves  but  once  through  eternity,  and  that  a  keen  pang  had 
invaded  hev  heart  when  she  discovered — or  fancied — that  Celio  was 
devoted  to  Nina.  But  it  was  no  ])angof  jealously  nor  of  envy — rather 
of  a  high  and  holy  joy,  miM{!;led  with  the  momentary  earthly  agony — 

♦  Needles  of  gold  and  silver  suspended  over  a  powerful  iron  ma?net  point  steadily  to  the  east,  or 
directly  across  the  line  of  the  earthly  magnetic  poles:  and  ?old  and  silver  are  the  spiritual  correspon 
dene es  for  the  two  earliest  and  most  blesoed  states  of  humanity,  to  which  we  are  slowly,  slowly  r^ 
Uiniing. 


100  CELIO. 

joy  that  she  had  it  in  her  power  to  make  the  idol  of  her  love  happy. 
Whether  she  was  also  to  be  happy,  or  for  ever  miserable,  that  was 
not  what  this  glorious  woman  thought  about.  She  only  asked  herself, 
Is  she  worthy  of  him  1  and  forced  to  answer  the  question  in  the  affirma- 
tive, her  decision  was  already  taken — the  sacrifice  already  olferedup. 
Nor  did  she  for  an  instant  think  of  contending  for  this  man's  love, 
more*  precious  to  her  than  the  breath  that  expanded  and  let  gently 
melt  away  again  the  white  arches  of  her  royal  bosom.  The  contest, 
hjid  she  but  willed  it,  had  not  been  a  hopeless  one  :  for  Adelaide's 
•beauty  was  that  of  the  Beautiful  itself,  and  her  soul  was  a  gushing 
and  dazzling  fountain  of  bright  thoughts  and  bewildering  fascinations. 
But  alas !  well  she  knew  that  man's  love  is  foreordained  from  the 
Immutable,  and  that  all  other  loves  but  that  for  which  he  was  created 
are  but  sinful  lusts,  however  they  may  be  hidden  and  perfumed  by 
the  senses  and  the  imagination.  To  love  Celio,  therefore,  other  than 
as  she  had  loved  him  before  the  death  of  her  husband — even  as  a  de- 
voted friend  and  sister — was  profanation  and  horror.  Thus  her  love 
for  Celio,  hallowed  and  purified  by  her  great  self-offering,  was  extended 
also  over  the  beautiful  and  lovely  Italian,  whom  she  watched  with 
the  jealous  fondness  of  a  mother  and  the  confiding  carefulness  of  a 
sister.  Therefore  it  was  that  Nina  had  been  protected  through  her 
whole  life  in  a  most  unusual  degree  from  the  example  or  the  knowl- 
edge of  selfishness  ;  and  it  was  long  before  the  open  and  palpable 
meanness,  the  coarse  envy  and  the  insolent  vulgarity  of  her  theatrical 
associates  became  sufficiently  intelligible  to  her  to  convert  her  wonder 
into  dismay. 

Yet  it  must  not  be  supposed  that  the  young  debutante  had  under- 
gone no  change  within  herself.  Her  transition  had  been  great  and 
sudden.  One  day  utterly  unknown  and  friendless  in  the  world,  be- 
yond her  own  little  home-circle — the  next,  the  idol  of  the  great  me- 
tropolis, her  name  on  every  tongue,  her  praises  sung  in  prose  and 
rhyme  by  all  the  accredited  oracles  of  fame — her  acquaintance  sought 
by  the  wealthy  and  the  fashionable,  and  the  inner  temples  of  a  vast 
and  refined  social  aristocracy  thrown  open  to  her :  here  indeed  Avas 
a  summer  change  sufficient  to  ripen  in  a  day  tlie  timid  and  budding 
flower  and  cause  it  to  burst  into  full  and  luxuriant  bloom.  Pure, 
oh  how  pure,  and  strong  and  golden-blooded  must  be  the  female  heart 
that  can  withstand  all  this  !  What  a  giddy  hight — whence  tlie  slight- 
est indiscretion,  the  smallest  mis-step,  oh  beautiful  and  favored 
one,  will  plunge  thee  into  irrevocable  ruin  !  Take  heed,  oh  maiden  ! 
and  pray  thou  in  the  pure  silence  of  tliy  chamber  to  thy  guardian  angel 
to  sustain  thee  in  thy  bright  and  dizzy  patli !  For  around  and  beneath 
are  myriads  of  mocking  demons,  eager  to  entice  thoe  astray  and  dying 
for  thy  fall. 

It  was  the  custom  at  the  time  of  which  we  write — perhaps  it  is 
still — to  admit  behind  the  scenes  certain  persons,  wlio  were  not  slow 
in  availing  themselves  of  tlie  privilege,  and  niiglit  be  seen  nightly 
skulking  about  among  the  properties  at  the  side-wing,  smashing  their 


HENRY   FITZ-CLARENCE  STUBBS.  101 

.  Learys  against  the  scenery  or  stumbling  over  the  carpenters — watch- 
ing for  the  chorus-girls  as  they  came  off  the  stage,  and  sometimes  even 
venturing  a  half-abashed,  half-insolent  stare  at  the  prima  donna  as 
she  rushed  off  the  stage  entrance,  and  gathering  her  long  robes  in  most 
uncourtly  fashion  about  her  legs,  hurried  to  her  dressing-room  to 
prepare  for  going  mad  in  white  muslin  and  disheveled  ringlets.  Some- 
times, hat  in  hand,  they  ventured,  to  approach  the  sacred  precincts 
of  the  green-room,  casting  longing  glances  at  the  white  lead  and  ver- 
millioned  beauties  who  lined  its  walls — but  they  seldom  plucked  up 
courage  to  enter.  A  few,  apparently  bolder  and  more  favored  than 
the  rest,  were  however  in  the  habit  of  walking  directly  to  the  green- 
room and  nodding  familiarly  and  patronizingly  to  the  tenor  or  taking 
a  seat  confidently  besides  the  ladies.  These  privileged  few  were 
either  the  sons  of  the  rich  old  gentlemen  who  loaned  the  manager 
mon«y  to  go  on  with,  (for  you  must  remember  that  an  invariable  rule 
of  the  Italian  Opera  in  all  countries  is  that  it  must  lose  money,)  or 
else  the  "  musical  critics"  of  the  leading  journals — an  editor  and  a 
millionaire  being  the  inevitable  pair  of  crutches  upon  which  an  opera 
manager  hobbles  through  the  season. 

One  of  the  former  class  we  must  describe. — His  name  was  Henry 
Fitz-Clarence  Stubbs — his  considerate  parents,  with  a  prophetic  cer- 
tainty that  the  profits  of  the  new  soap-factory  would  soon  raise  them 
into  the  atmosphere  of  the  "Upper  Ten,"  having  determined  to  com- 
pensate their  darling  for  the  vulgarity  of  the  family  name  by  the 
grandiloquence  of  his  babtismal  appellatives.  He  was  not  more  than 
twenty-two,  yet  his  face  had  a  premature  old  look  and  his  shallow 
eye  was  full  of  lechery  and  deceit. — He  was  evidently  pretty  far  gone 
in  dissipation,  and  his  musky  head  smelt  suspiciously,  notwithstanding 
the  disgusting  abundance  of  his  polecat  perfumery,  of  segars  in  his 
hat-crown. — His  upper  lip  had  evidently  b^en  surveyed  and  laid  out 
for  a  mustaccio  ;  but  it  might  be  months,  or  even  years,  before  any 
tangible  settlement  of  his  wandering  hairs  could  be  collected  there. — 
He  wore  very  light  yellow  kid  gloves — so  bright  as  to  look  yellow  even 
by  gas-light — and  an  impudently  ill-fitting  sack,  with  long  large 
sleeves,  into  which  he  retracted  his  hands  very  much  like  a  gander 
drawing  his  red  leg  up  into  his  belly.  There  was  nothing  whatever 
the  matter  with  his  eyes — except  that  they  were  totally  devoid  of  any 
respectable  sort  of  expression — still  he  wore  a  tortoise-bound  eye-glass 
which  he  spent  about  half  the  time  in  screwing  into  his  right  frontal 
orbit.  He  wore  a  white  vest  which  descended  considerably  below  his 
naval,  and  his  shirt-bosom  was  elaborately  wrought  in  costly  needle- 
work. Indeed  it  looked  more  like  a  lady's  tucker  a  la  chemise  than 
a  masculine  shirt-bosom. 

The  conversation  of  this  delectable  specimen  of  the  Republican 
Snob  was  such  as  might  be  supposed  to  proceed  from  an  effigy  of  his 
description.  It  was  equally  destitute  of  the  elegance  of  the  old-school 
dandy  and  the  vigor  of  the  genuine  blood — a  kind  of  hybrid  between 
the  b'hoy  and  the  blackleg,  which   Chanfrau  himself  would  find  it 


102  CELIO. 

difficult  to  represent.  His  maimer  ^Yas  compounded  of  equal  parts 
of  swagger,  cowardice  and  ill-breeding — and  if  we  add  that  lie  seldom 
wound  up  a  sentence  without  the  assistance  of  an  oath,  we  have  com- 
pleted our  catalogue  of  the  ''  points"  of  Henry  Fitz-Clarence  Stubbs, 
Esquire.  His  father  was,  as  we  have  hinted,  a  retired  soap-boiler, 
who  had  built  himself  a  classic  mansion  (probably  deriving  its  Athe- 
nian tendencies  from  the  grease  whence  it  arose,)  in  Fifth  avenue, 
which  was  declared  in  the  Evening  Sivashbuckler  to  be  in  the  purest 
style  of  art  and  calculated  to  exert  an  immense  influence  upon  the 
taste  for  architecture  throughout  the  United  States.  Tliis  mansion 
was  built  of  red  freestone,  with  painted  brick  ends  to  correspond. 
The  entrance  was  ornamented  by  a  Gothic  portico  supported  on  Ionic 
pillars  in  front,  and  square  pilasters  with  Corinthian  capitals  behind. 
The  window-dressings  were  almost  pure  Egyptian,  (only  the  Egyptians 
had  none,)  and  the  balustrade  and  steps  were  of  the  Norman  fashion. 
Altogether  the  mansion  presented  very  much  the  appearance  of  several 
pages  of  architectural  illustrations  pasted  together  and  congealed  in 
freestone.     Still,  it  was  pretty  well  for  soapgrease  ! 

But  lest  we  be  tempted  to  become  satirical,  let  us  attend  our  young 
sprig  of  aristocracy  into  the  green-room  of  the  opera-house,  where  he 
is  about  to  make  his  first  appearence — having  at  length,  after  repeated 
failures,  brought  the  manager  to  the  sticking  point.  He  had  put  it 
off  as  long  as  possible,  but  Fitz-Clarence  was  resolute  and  pertina- 
cious, and  the  manager  was  at  last  compelled  to  submit  to  the  impo- 
sition. 


CHAPTER  XVn. 


More  about  Mr.  Pipson  and  a  little  what  he  thinks  of  him- 
self. Mr.  Henry  Fitz-Clarence  Stubbs  forgets  his 
French.     Nina  accepts  an  invitation. 

Among  the  most  constant  of  tlie  privileged  habitues  of  the  green- 
room was  our  old  acquaintance  Mr.  Job  Pipson.  It  is  true  that  Mr. 
Pi})Son  had  the  jeast  possible  idea  of  music,  and  was  never  so  much 
puzzled  as  when  trying  to  api)ear  interested  in  it.  However  he  had 
an  ambition,  and  that  was  to  be  considered  "fashionable."  The 
motive  of  this  ambition  was  no  abstract  love  for  social  enjoyment  or 
the  distinction  of  fasliionable  life.  Mr.  Pipson  was  a  confirmed  cynic, 
and  the  only  lionest  sentiment,  perhaps,  in  his  bosom,  was  a  sincere 
hatred  of  affectation.     Matters  of  dress  and  etiquette,  too,  apj^eared  to 


CHARACTER  OF  PIPSON.  108 

him  of  the  most  contemptible  significance,  while  they  were  so  many 
bills  undiscounted  and  such  immense  amounts  of  country  money  un- 
shaved.  But  still  Mr.  Pipson  was  willing  to  spend  much  time  and 
considerable  money — when  he  could  not  possible  avoid  it  in  maintain- 
ing a  certain  position  in  good  society.  His  motive  must  have  been, 
and  was,  a  powerful  one. 

He  was  a  satyr.  Of  this  type  of  beings  the  ancients  seem  to  have 
known  much  more  than  the  moderns  ;  yet  we  venture  to  say  that  they 
are  not  more  plentiful  on  the  walls  and  vases  of  Pompeii  than  in  the 
streets  of  New  York  !  Hundreds  of  respectable,  sleek-coated,  grave- 
looking  men,  who  pass  every  where  as  respectable,  and  whose  presence 
is  considered  quite  an  honor  to  many  an  aristocratic  drawing-room, 
if  they  could  be  unmasked  and  stand  before  us  in  the  absolute  like- 
ness of  their  spiritual  selves,  w^ould  appear  but  as  in  the  suggestive 
image  of  the  goat-like  satyr.  Mr.  Pipson  was  one  of  these — a  man 
who  utterly  and  sincerely  had  persuaded  himself  that  there  was  no 
such  thing  a3  female  modesty  or  virtue — that  every  w^oman  had  her 
price,  the  difference  consisting  merely  in  their  different  endowment 
of  fascinations  and  skill  in  disposing  of  them  to  the  best  advantage. 
We  do  not  say  nor  mean  that  this  was  Mr.  Pipson's  nature — for  let 
us  hope  that  God  never  made  any  creature  so  utterly  and  abhorrently 
depraved.  No — even  Job  Pipson,  cunning,  selfish  and  remorseless 
satyr  as  he  was,  yet  had  once  glowed  and  thrilled  with  th«  divine 
sentiments  of  trusting  love  which  hallows  and  refines  whomsoever  it 
touches.  We  have  seen,  in  his  interview  with  Mrs.  Carleton,  the 
day  of  the  funeral,  that  even  then,  had  it  been  possible  for  him  to  win 
the  spirit  who  had  enchanted  him,  his  false  and  and  miserable  mask 
of  sin  would  have  fallen,  and  he  might  still  have  been  redeemed.  But 
his  was  a  dangerous  organization — and  the  sole  redeeming  element  it 
contained  being  perverted  and  transmuted  into  evil,  the  whole  being 
became  an  angel  of  darkness  and  a  minister  of  mischief.  Under  his 
cold  and  circumspect  exterior  burned  fiery  passions,  which  had  now 
become  degraded  to  mere  appetites  that  consumed  his  very  life  away ; 
and  compelled  through  pohcy  to  live  a  life  of  hourly  hypocrisy,  wither- 
ing and  crushing  to  the  best  of  souls,  he  abandoned  in  his  secret  heart 
all  remorse,  and  solemnly  dedicated  his  hfe  and  energies  to  the  grat- 
ification of  his  base  and  brutal  desires.  Such  a  man,  keen  of  intellect, 
shrewd  of  purpose  and  patient  in  the  accomplishment  of  his  ends — 
who  can  wait  and  watch  and  w^ork  in  silence  and  contempt  for  years 
to  secure  one  moment's  triumph — is  a  fearful  foe  to  the  peace  and 
virtue  of  society.  And  yet  hoAV  many  such  stalk  unknown  and  unsus- 
pected among  us  ! 

Mr.  Pipson,  upon  receiving  the  imperative  order  from  Earnest  to 
let  go  his  hold  (he  had  thought  it  so  sure  !)  upon  Mrs.  Carleton,  chafed 
inwardly  almost  to  madness.  He  had  never  in  his  life  before  come 
so  near  compromising  his  confirmed  principles  of  action  and  giving 
way  to  the  fury  that  raged  within  him.  But  it  was  not  to  be  thought 
of.     Not  only  his  personal  safety  bound  him  to  keep  in  good  terms 


104  CELIO. 

with  i^arnest — but  he  dared  not  disobey  him,  much  less  palter  or 
equivocate  witii  him.  The  Captain  had  shown  him  the  entire  folly 
of  that.  But,  although  he  was  compelled  to  yield  back  to  Mrs.  Carle- 
ton  a  large  proportion  of  what  he  had  hoped  not  only  fraudulently 
to  obtain  but  at  the  same  time  to  make  it  a  means  of  bringing  the 
lady  herself  to  his  wishes,  yet  he  by  no  means  abandoned  his  designs 
upon  her.  All  Jesuits  like  him  understand  well  the  uses  of  ''  mental 
reservation  ;"  and  he  swore  to  himself  a  solemn  oath  that  he  would 
not  die  till  he  had  accomplished  the  downfall  of  both  Earnest  and 
Mrs.  Carleton — not  forgetting  the  impertient  boy  Celio,  whose  scorn- 
ful and  insulting  treatment  of  him  still  burned  like  fire  in  his  memory. 

Meanwhile,  there  was  time  enough.  He  was  not  very  old ;  and 
he  always  found  that  of  all  hair-dyes  and  wrinkle-smoothers,  gold  was 
the  most  efficacious.  Indeed,  such  was  the  cordial  attention  with 
which  this  "  first-rate  match"  was  everywhere  received  by  mamas 
and  daughters  that  it  required  the  aid  of  his  looking-glass  to  keep 
him  in  recollection  of  his  real  appearance.  But  the  hypocrisy  with 
which  he  was  greeted  did  not  deceive  him — it  only  made  him  bitterer. 
So,  forced  for  a  time  at  least  to  abandon  his  designs  upon  the  widow 
of  his  dearest  friend,  he  turned  his  attention  to  ascertain  the  exact 
relationship  between  Celio,  Mrs.  Carleton,  Nina  and  Captain  Earnest. 
After  collecting  all  the  information  in  his  power,  his  conclusions  were 
these — Mrs.  Carleton  was  in  love  with  Celio  and  Celio  with  Nina, 
and  that  Captain  Earnest  knew  or  cared  very  little  about  either  of 
the  ladies,  except  as  he  was  moved  by  Celio — who,  of  course,  he  re- 
garded as  his  arch-enemy  in  the  premises,  and  the  one  who  was  first 
to  be  disposed  of.  The  subsequent  coming  out  of  Nina  and  her  con- 
sequent withdrawal  from  the  momentary  watch  of  Mrs.  Carleton 
were  favorable  circumstances  in  his  calculations,  and  he  concluded 
to  commence  his  operations  at  once. 

There  was  in  the  opera  company  at  the  time  of  which  we  write — 
propably  there  is  in  every  opera  company  at  all  time^ — a  second  prima 
donna,  with  a  very  large  chest  and  a  very  small  voice.  She  was  a 
German  by  birth,  but  had  added  an  iva  to  her  name,  many  years 
ago,  so  that  she  passed  with  the  public  for  an  Italian  :  and  the  public 
had  once  condescended  to  get  up  furore  on  account  of  the  beautiful 
Signorina  Gherlandini,  while  as  plain  Frau  Gorlandt  she  might  have 
sung  till  doomsday  without  a  hand.  Her  constitution  still  seemed 
to  be  in  the  very  best  possible  order,  and  she  herself  was  fully  con- 
vinced that  her  voice,  style  and  execution  wore  in  the  same  enviable 
condition. — Indeed,  the  seedy  editor  of  the  Svvday  Crotrl,  who  was 
the  last  and  most  resolute  of  her  admirers,  had  not  long  ago  asserted 
that  she  was  still  in  the  very  flush  and  hey-d;»y  of  youtliful  triumph, 
and  that  her  voice  was,  if  possible  even  fresher  than  ever.  However, 
the  public  had  for  many  years  ceased  to  interest  itself  about  the 
matter ;  and  when  she  used  to  come  on  and  go  off  the  stage  in  some 
minor  part,  merely  thrown  in  by  the  judicious  com])OPor  to  furnish 
the  principal  artists  breathing-time,  the   audience  would  receive  her 


STUBBS INTRODUCED  TO  NINA.  106 

few  wirey,  broken  notes  with  the  little  patient  and  well-bred  grimace 
usual  on  such  occasions, — totally  forgetful  of  the  times,  "  long,  long 
ago,"  when  she  was  the  popular  idol,  and  the  slightest  tone  of  her 
voice  or  the  smallest  wave  of  her  white  hand  sent  a  thrill  of  rapture 
to  every  bosom. 

Of  course,  during  the  brief  years  of  her  triumph  she  had  lived  as 
extravagantly  as  a  princess,  and  lavished  all  she  received  from  the 
public  as  well  as  from  her  admirers,  in  foolish  attempts  to  "  shine," 
and  thus  gain  a  position  in  fashionable  society — where  she  and  all  her 
caste  are  merely  tolerated  on  account  of  the  talent  they  possess,  and 
which  they  are  always  expected  cheerfully  to  exert  for  the  amuse- 
ment of  their  entertainers.  When  her  popularity  waned  and  her 
charms  faded,  her  resources  failed,  and  her  extravagant  appetite  and 
costly  tastes  remained  ;  and  to  gratify  these  she  was  obliged  to  resort 
to  one  expedient  after  another,  each  less  reputable  than  the  last. 
Yes — Avith  all  her  love  of  admiration  and  all  her  fiery  passions  un- 
diminished by  age,  yet  with  all  her  powers  of  fascinating  mankind 
gone,  she  was  compelled  to  listen  to  the  praises  bestowed  upon  other 
women,  whom  she  once  would  have  looked  upon  with  scorn.  Oh, 
was  not  this  a  bitter,  bitter  task,  and  well  fitted  to  change  woman 
to  a  fiend  !     Such  was  the  Frau  Gorland,  alias  Signora  Gherlandini. 

When  Mr.  Henry  Fitz- Clarence  Stubbs  entered  the  green-room 
to  be  presented  to  the  prima  donna,  Mr.  Job  Pipson  and  Signora  Gher- 
landini were  sitting  on  a  low  settee  at  one  end  of  the  room,  earnestly 
engaged  in  conversation.  Now  and  then  stealthy  glances  were  cast 
by  either  party  at  Nina,  who  sat  unconscious  and  abstracted  near 
the  door,  waiting  for  the  call  which  was  to  summon  her  to  the  stage. 
To-night  she  was  playing  the  queenly  Lucrezia  and  in  her  princess 
robes  was  indeed  dazzlingly  beautiful.  No  more  ludicrous  contrast 
to  her  imperial  presence  could  be  conceived  than  the  slim  and  gawky 
Stubbs,  all  his  impudence  awed  to  awkwardness  by  the  genius  of  the 
place,  and  the  swaggering  condescension  with  which  he  had  intended 
to  overwhelm  the  favored  cantatrice  tamed  to  the  merest  inarticulate 
whine  of  commonplace. 

"  Signorina,"  said  the  manager,  his  unimpeachable  Leary  in  hand 
and  opera-glass  peeping  out  from  under  his  arm,  "  allow  me  to  pre- 
sent to  you  Mr.  Henry  Fitz-Clarence  Stubbs-,  one  of  my  particular 
friends  and  the  son  of  a  very  particular  friend  of  the  Italian  opera." 

She  partly  rose  and  half  bowed,  with  that  diffipult  gesture  which 
in  any  but  a  truly  beautiful  woman  is  positive  awkwardness,  and 
looked  coldly,  almost  disdainfully,  at  the  poor  young  man. 

He  had  prepared  himself,  while  stumbling  through  the  dark  pas- 
sages beneath  the  stage  on  his  way  to  the  green-room,  with  a  set 
speech  in  French,  which  he  intended  to  enforce  with  a  familiar  chuck 
under  the  chin — having,  for  that  purpose,  withdrawn  the  yellow  kid 
glove  from  his  dexter  ha'nd.  But  he  found,  upon  opening  his  mouth, 
that  his  French  was  frozen — not  a  liquid  syllable  would  leak  out :  and 
so,  like  all  men  in  sudden  emergencies,  he  resorted  instinctively  to  his 
mother  tongue  and  habitual  dialect — stammering  out, 


106 


CELIO. 


•'  Well,  I'm  blowed  if  you  haven't  taken  mj  breath  away  !" 

An  almost  imperceptible  smile,  ending  in  a  shrug  of  disgust,  passed 
over  the  face  and  off  at  the  shoulders  of  the  beautiful  Italian. 
"  Non  parlo  che  la  mia  lingua,"  she  said,  quietly. 

The  sumph  was  dumfounded.  "  Don't  speak  Enghsh  ?  Why,  I 
had  thought" — and  then,  recollecting  himself,  he  commenced  drum- 
ming his  French  forces  together,  and  had  got  as  far  as,  "  J'avait  cru, 
Mademoiselle,  que" — when  the  lady  heard  the  opening  chord  of  her 
entering  music  breaking  its  neck  against  the  scenery  on  its  way  up 
from  the  stage  ;  and,  rising  quickly,  she  smoothed  the  skirt  of  her 
pink  satin  dress,  and,  bestowing  a  musical  little  laugh  of  apology  upon 
her  new  acquaintance,  ran  out  of  the  room.  The  young  man  stood  a 
moment  twirling  his  hat,  twiddling  his  thumbs  and  making  all  the  other 
established  demonstrations  of  dismayed  stupidity,  and  then  started  in 
chase  after  the  lady. — Excited  to  the  very  extent  of  his  capacity  by 
the  incidents  of  the  evening,  and  half  mad  with  the  beauty  of  the  fair 
creature  who  had  just  disappeared  before  him, — bewildered,  too,  by 
the  strangeness  of  every  thing  about  .him, — he  rushed  down  the  pas- 
sage between  the  sidewings'  and  the  wall,  determined  on  something, 
he  scarcely  knew  what.  About  half  way  to  the  prompter's  desk  he 
caught  sight  of  Nina,  standing  on  the  other  side  of  the  stage,  at  the 
wing,  waiting  to  go  on ;  and,  regardless  of  every  thing  else,  he  made 
directly  towards  her — crossing  the  stage,  unfortunately  in  fro7it  of 
the  scene  and  in  full  view  of  the  audience.  This  was  too  much,  even 
for  the  well-bred  opera-tors,  and  a  shout  of  laughter  exploded  instan- 
taneously. Before  he  was  half  way  across,  Mr.  Stubbs  saw  the 
scrape  he  had  got  into  ;  and  perfectly  paralyzed,  he  stopped  still, 
turned  round,  hesitated,  and  at  length  presented  himself  in  full  front 
view  to  the  audience,  with  such  a  comical  expression  of  ludicrous 
helplessness  on  his  bread-and-butter  little  face,  that  the  laughter  was 
increased  tenfold,  and  now  fairly  rose  to  shouts  and  screams.  Gen- 
naro  paused  in  his  pathetic  recitative — the  Duke  turned  sternly  round 
and  nervously  examined  his  dress  and  appointments  to  see  if  any 
thing  was  awry  ;  while  poor  Stubbs,  his  hair  positively  on  end  with 
affright,  after  standing  a  moment  transfixed,  with  his  hat  held  before 
him  in  both  hands,  at  length  clapped  it  upon  his  head,  and  driving 
it  down  to  his  ears  with  a  tremendous  knock,  made  a'  "  rushing  exit 
0.  P."  the  like  of  which  has  not  been  seen  nor  heard  of  in  modern 
times. 

But  we  will  return  to  the  green-room  and  listen  a  moment  to  the 
conversation  of  Mr.  Pipson  and  the  pnssce  Signori  Gherlaiulini. 

Their  consultation  seemed  to  be  drawing  to  a  close.  Tlio  gentle- 
man rose,  and  gallantly  pressing  the  hand  of  his  fair  companion,  (into 
the  palm  of  which  he  screwed  a  "  ten-spot,")  bade  her  adieu,  say- 
ing— , 

"  So  my  dear  madam,  I  may  consider  that  little  matter  as  all  ar- 
ranged ?     On  Thursday  evening,  at  your  house.     Do  not  fail  n)e." 

"  Never  fear  ??ie,  sir.  If  you  i)lay  your  part  as  i>killfully  as  I  shall 
mine,  there  will  be  no  failure  in  the  case." 


NINA    ACCEPTS    AN    INVITATION.  107 

It  was  a  powerful  combination,  a  dangerous  conspiracy — avarice 
and  revenge  on  the  one  side,  united  with  hatred  and  lust  on  the  other. 
Madame  Gherlandina  esteemed  Nina  her  personal  and  bitter  enemy, 
because  she  had  dared  to  be  younger  and  handsomer  and  more  popu- 
lar than  herself — while  Pipson  hated  them  all, — but  especially  Celio, 
— with  the  cold,  cautious,  relentless  hatred  of  a  disappointed  man, 
in  whom  all  the  better  qualities  had  been  curdled  to  poison.  Aiming 
to  strike  a  vital  blow  at  the  stripling  who  had  dared  to  cross  him, 
and  one  that  should  crush  him  forever,  he  had  selected  the  beautiful 
Nina  as  the  object  of  his  attack.  For  well,  too  well,  he  knew  the 
agony  that  proud-hearted  youth  endures  when  the  object  of  its  love 
is  called  upon  to  sufier.  His  plans  were  deep  and  adroitly  laid,  and 
he  meant  that  the  blow  should  be  sudden  and  sure.  After  he  had 
dishonored  Nina, — and  this  it  was  that  he  deliberately  intended, 
through  the  assistance  of  his  female  accomplice,  to  do, — then  they 
might  all  writhe  and  cui'se  their  hearts  full — he  would  laugh  and 
mock  at  them  !  That  would  be  his  hour  of  triumph !  Such  were 
the  reflections  of  the  respectable  Mr.  Job  Pipson  as  he  went  home- 
ward, spurning  the  very  flag-stones  as  he  walked,  so  elated  and  flushed 
was  he  with  the  sweet  anticipations  of  his  revenge. 

"  That  last  cadenza  was  truly  magnificent  my  dear,"  said  Signora 
Gherlandini  to  Nina,  as  the  latter  came  ofi"  the  stage  from  her  grand 
-finale.)  her  arms  filled  with  bouquets  and  garlands.  "  You  absolutely 
astonished  everybody  by  it.  What  a  charming  expression !  What 
beautiful  style  !     You  shall  be  the  great  prima  donna  of  the  world." 

Nma,  her  heart  fluttering  with  the  joy  of  her  triumph,  and  tuned 
to  all  gentle  and  kindly  emotions,  felt  herself  give  way  entirely  be- 
neath this  unexpected  praise  from  an  artist  and  a  rival — for  her 
modesty  still  taught  her  to  remember  the  renown  of  her  companion 
and  forget  the  decay  of  those  powers  which  created  it.  Dropping 
her  bouquets  and  throwing  her  arms  round  the  substantial  neck  of 
her  friend,  she  burst  into  tears  of  passionate  gratitude,  and  could 
only  sob, 

"  Oh,  how  good  you  are  !" 

"  Not  good  at  all,  my  little  dear,  only  just — that  is  all.  And  now 
since  we  are  friends  at  last — and  we  would  have  been  so  from  the 
first,  only  you  seemed  so  shy — I  want  you  to  come  and  see  me  and 
help  us  with  a  little  old-fashioned  Italian  merry-making.  We  have 
an  evening  at  my  house  on  Tuesday.  There  will  be  no  opera,  you 
know,  and  you  will  have  nothing  to  do. — Will  you  come  ?" 

"  I  shall  be  only  too  happy.  But  then  I  know  nobody.  How 
shall  I  come?'' 

"  Oh,  I'll  manage  all  that.  I'll  send  for  you,  or  come  and  get  you 
myself,  and  see  you  safe  home  again.  Now  don't  refuse.  All  the 
artists  feel  hurt  that  you  have  shown  so  little  consideration  for  them, 
and  they  will  be  delighted  at  this  token  of  your  good  will.  And  a 
great  deal  depends,  by  dear,  after  all,  upon  the  good  wishes  and 
services  of  the  artists.     Even  Catalani  couldn't  get  on  quite  alone.'' 


108 


CELIO. 


''  Oh,  I  assure  you,  my  dear  madam,  that  I  never  thought  of  such 
a  thing  as  slighting  them  or  thinking  ill  of  them.  Indeed" — she  was 
about  to  add,  naively,  that  she  never  thought  of  them  at  all ;  when 
discretion  came  to  her  aid  and  she  desisted.  "  Yes,  yes,  my  dear 
Signora,"  she  added  :  "  since  you  are  so  kind  as  to  invite  me,  I  will 
certainly  come,  and  be  very  glad,  too." 

"  Ah,  that's  a  good  girl !     Now  give  me  a  kiss  and  good  night.'' 

Thus  was  one  trap  sprung,  and  the  bird  already  caught.  Bravo, 
Mr.  Job  Pipson ! 

But,  Mr.  Pipson  was  not  a  man  to  do  things  by  halves.  It  was 
enough  that  he  had  Nina  in  his  power,  and  thus  held,  as  it  were,  the 
heart  of  Celio  in  his  hand,  and  could  pierce  it  through  and  through 
with  keenest  agony.  Captain  Earnest,  too,  had  thwarted  him  in  a 
scheme  dearer  than  life — a  scheme  whose  accomplishment  would  have 
had  even  some  semblance  of  humanity,  so  intensly  and  with  his  whole 
soul  was  he  engaged  in  it.  Yes !  Could  he  have  had  Adelaide  com- 
pletely in  his  power,  with  time  and  ample  opportunity  to  work  upon 
her  magnanimity,  her  nobility  of  nature,  which  would,  he  knew,  cheer- 
fully sacrifice  itself  for  others,  he  felt  that  he  could  have  accomplished 
every  thing.  He  could  have  made  her  love  him  !  He  could  have  re- 
deemed himself  from  degradation  in  his  own  eyes  !  But  now,  all 
was  over,  and  forever. — Nothing  but  hate,  bitter,  black,  silent  and 
deadly  hate,  lived  in  his  bosom.  To  the  infernal  furies,  with  im- 
precations fierce  enough  to  grow  to  tortures,  he  consigned  them  all — • 
the  loved,  the  hated  and  the  indifi*erent — himself  and  all  the  rest. 
But  he  must  be  cool !  He  had  no  intention  of  raving  away  his  anger 
and  letting  his  victims  escape.  Such  a  thing  would  not  be  charac- 
teristic of  Mr.  Job  Pipson.  He  would  first  get  Nina  and  Celio  and 
Earnest  securely  in  his  toils,  and  then  show  Adelaide  that  the  only 
path  for  their  utter  and  certain  destruction  was  through  her  love  for 
him.  She  might  storm  and  rave  for  a  while — but  he  knew  her  noble 
nature  too  well  not  to  know  how  to  play  on  it.  At  length  she  would 
relent :  to  save  her  friends  she  would  sacrifice  herself — and  when 
this  was  accomplished,  then  he  would  show  her  those  friends  even 
more  utterly  ruined  and  destroyed  than  he  had  ever  threatened — and 
then  how  sweet  it  would  be  to  mock  and  laugh  at  her  useless  re- 
proaches !  Such  were  the  far-reaching  plans  and  schemes  of  the 
respectable  Mr.  Job  Pipson. — How  he  proceeded  in  carrying  them 
out  we  have  already  commenced  tracing,  in  the  case  of  Nina.  But 
for  Captain  Earnest,  a  darker  and  more  terrible  doom  was  preparing. 


HOW    THE    MORNING    DASH    WAS    REGARDED.  109 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

How  THE  NEW  PAPER  GETS  ON  AND  HOW  CaPTAIN  EaRNEST  COMES 
VERY  NEAR  GETTING  INTO  THE  PoLICE  DEPARTMENT  OF  HIS  OWN 
COLUMNS,  AND  AT  LAST  GETS  INTO  EVEN  A  WORSE  PLACE,  WITH 
SOME   MORE  VERY  PROPER  REFLECTIONS. 

Celio  and  Earnest  were  seated  in  the  private  editorial  office  of  the 
Morning  Dash.  The  Paper,  which  had  powerfully  arrested  public 
attention  from  the  first,  had  continued  to  increase  in  power  and  inter- 
est, and  had  already  become  as  it  were  a  distinct  power  in  the  estate. 
Although  its  course  was  always  bold  and  audacious,  and  sometimes 
not  very  consistent,  yet  there  was  such  an  air  of  unconscious  assurance 
and  dogmatism  about  it  that  whatever  it  said  was  sure  to  be  heeded 
by  the  large  class  of  the  unthinking,  with  whom  it  was  really  regarded 
something  in  the  light  of  an  oracle.  By  alternately  attacking  all 
parties  and  public  men,  and  exposing  in  turn  the  sophistries  and 
hypocricies  of  every  popular  delusion,  it  came  at  length  to  be  regarded 
as  essentially  honest ;  and  if  there  were  a  few  who  saw  the  game  it 
was  playing,  they  too  much  feared  it  to  tell  all  they  knew  or  suspected. 
Its  cotemporaries  of  all  sorts  denounced  it,,  in  and  out  of  their  papers, 
in  unmeasured  terms — accusing  its  editor  of  every  crime  forbidden 
in  the  Decalogue,  besides  hundreds  of  others  which  that  instrument 
did  not  contemplate — the  world  having  grown  greatly  wiser  in  wicked- 
ness since  those  days.  A  great  many  pious  people,  too,  affected  to 
hold  it  in  the  utmost  aversion  and  to  turn  up  their  eyes  in  holy  horror 
whenever  it  was  mentioned. — Still,  the  great  fact  remained,  and  even 
every  day  increased  in  magnitude — every  body  bought  it,  every  body 
read  it. — Hence  its  power.  What  we  hear  reiterated  on  all  sides 
of  us  becomes  at  last,  to  our  perceptions,  truth. 

"  Well,  Celio,"  said  Captain  Earnest,  raising  his  eyes  from  a 
paper  he  had  been  reading  ;  "  what  do  yoa  say  to  the  Morning  Dash  ? 
— DoesnH  it  answer  your  expectations  ?  Are  you  satisfied  with  your 
position  T" 

"  My  dear  Earnest,"  replied  Celio,  in  a  tone  of  deep  and  earnest 
feeling,  "  I  really  know  not  how  to  express  my  sense  of  the  burden 
of  obligations  under  which  you  have  placed  me.  Not  only  have  you 
saved  me  from  I  know  not  what  desperate  fate,  but  rescued  those 
whom  I  love  better  than  life,  from  a  fortune  I  cannot  contemplate 
without  shuddering.  Such  acts  have  not  failed  to  elicit  my  profound- 
est  gratitude.  Still,  Captain  Earnest,  I  must  confess  you  inspire 
with  a  sentiment  even  more  powerful  than  gratitude." 

"  What  in>  heaven's  name  can  it  be  ?"  asked  the  Captain,  laughing 
and  putting  his  hand  on  his  pocket — "surely  it  cannot  be  avarice  !" 


110  CELIO. 

and  he  made  a  comical  gesture  as  if  he  were  begging  off  from  ahigh« 
wajnian. 

'^  Noj  Captain,"  replied  Celio,  laughing  also,  in  spite  of  himself, 
at  the  grotesque  gestures  and  grimaces  of  his  companion,  '^  fear  nothing 
more  in  that  quarter.  I  have  already  made  all  the  assaults  upon  your 
purse  which  my  modesty  will  permit.  At  present  my  salary  as  sub- 
editor and  factotum  of  the  Morning  Dash  is  amply  sufficient  for  all  my 
wants.  I  have  even  wherewithal  to  help  a  friend,  should  need  be" — 
and  he  pulled  out  his  dainty  but  well-stuffed  portemonnaie , 

"  Thank  j'ou,  Mr.  Impertinence,"  I  am  not  absolutely  destitute. 
I  have  not  yet  quite  exhausted  the  '  little  present'  I  received  from 
that  s^^-indling  stock  jobber." 

''  What,  Old  Gripes  ?  But  he  has  bled  hard,  though.  I  tremibled 
at  one  time  for  the  fate  of  the  Smash  town  Bank.  But  seriously,  how 
do  3'ou  reconcile  this  suppression  of  rascality  to  your  conscience?" 

"  I  am  not  the  regularly-appointed  rascal-hound  of  the  community, 
who  pay  their  thousand  police-officers  roundly  for  such  services. — 
Every  one  I  choose  to  catch  and  deliver  up  to  justice  is  a  clear  gain 
to  that  portion  of  society  which  takes  such  pious  pleasure  in  punishing 
vice — while  those  I  let  go  or  don't  disturb  are  no  worse  than  if  I  were 
not  in  existence.     Where,  then,  is  the  harm  V 

"  Reasoned  like  David  Graham  or  his  natural  adversary,  District 
Attorney  McKeon." 

"  But  to  tell  the  truth,  I  believe  the  crimes  of  those  who  are  de- 
tected and  punished  are  mere  trifles  compared  with  those  which  are- 
never  heard  of.  For  instance,  who  shall  compare  petty  larceny  with 
seduction,  or  rowdyism  with  adultery  or  the  ruin  of  a  friend  ?  And 
yet  these  are  every  day  practices  in  good  society,  universally  winked 
at  by  the  tribunal  of  public  oppinion,  because  every  body  feels  that 
he  may  be  glad  to  be  winked  at  in  return." 

"  Amen  !" 

"  To  my  sermon?  So  be  it,  you  sly  rogue! — And  tell  me  how 
is  your  beautiful  Nina?  I  am  glad  I  have  no  fondness  for  women,  or 
I  should  be  trying  to  do  you  a  friendly  office  with  the  charming  Italian. 
Now  don't  blush  and  go  on  so — I  mean  nothing  naughty.  Plato,  you 
know — Platonic,  and  all  that  sort  of  thing.  But  how  docs  she  really 
go  on  in  the  grand  opera?" 

''  I  am  astonished.  Captain  Earnest,  to  discover  the  intensity  of 
your  barbarism.  Do  you  not  read  the  musical  articles  in  the  Morning 
Dash  ?     I  sir,  even  we  ourself,  claim  the  authorship  of  those  articles." 

"  I  beg  j^our  critical  worship  ten  thousand  pardons,"  exclaimed 
Earnest,  gravely  rising,  pulling  off  his  liat  and  making  a  ludicrously 
profound  bow.  "  But  come,  leave  your  cursed  manuscript  and  police 
reports,  and  let  us  take  a  stroll.  I  wish  to  introduce  you  to  a  very 
particular  friend." 

"  Yes  in  a  moment — let  me  just  correct — or  rather  re-write — this 
'  mysterious  murder,'  just  handed  in  l)y  thepolice  reporter.  Pleasant 
work  to  read  over  and  correct  these  precious  specimens  of  composi- 
tion!" 


MYSTERIOUS  MURDER.  Ill 

"Mysterious  murder!  What  is  it]"  inquired  Earnest,  with  a 
certain  strangeness  in  the  tone  of  his  voice. 

"  Oh,  something  quite  fresh  and  exciting — deliciously  horrible. 
Listen  :  ^Mysterious  and  most  reprehensible,  murder! — Yesterday  af- 
ternoon, as  some  Laborers  were  digging  the  foundations  of  a  new  house 
to  be  erected  below  the  old  National  Theatre  in  Leonard  street,  they 
suddenly  and  unexpectedly  came  upon  a  vault  apparently  extending 
into  the  adjoining  premises,  occupied  by  a  notorious  woman,  which 
contained  a  large  quantity  of  human  bones.  The  coroner  was  im- 
mediately called,  and  with  the  help  of  several  of  our  most  eminent 
physicians,  made  out  at  least  one  entire  skeleton,  although  the  bones 
were  in  a  state  of  partial  decay,  apparently  from  having  lain  in  lime. 
A  pocket-book  was  also  found,  which  had  almost  entirely  escaped 
decay,  and  contained  many  papers  identifying  it  as  having  belonged 
to  young  Hammercloth,  who  it  was  stated  at  the  time  of  his  sudden 
disappearance,  had  ^one  to  California,  after  having  been  entirely 
stripped  at  the  gaming-table  of  the  remains  of  his  immense  fortune. 
It  is  known  that  the  deceased  was  on  intimate  terms  with  a  noted 
blackleg  named  Keno,  and  the  police  are  on  his  scent." 

"  That,  at  all  events,  must  be  prevented  !"  gasped  Earnest,  a 
deadly  paleness  having  risen  to  his  face  and  a  filmy  fear  curdling  his 
voice.  Celio  looked  up,  and  was  for  a  moment  paralyzed  by  the  fear- 
ful transformation  that  had  passed  over  the  face  of  his  friend.  The 
next,  however,  he  sprang  to  his  side,  and  threw  his  arm  about  him. 
But  Earnest  gently  released  himself  from  the  loving  embrace,  and  his 
features  rapidly  regained  their  usual  composure.  He  gazed  for  a 
moment  wistfully  into  Celio's  eyes,  and  then  said,  slowly, 

"  My  friend,  I  am  glad  that  this  has  happened.  I  have  sworn  to 
myself  never  to  trust  implicity  to  one  I  had  not  tried  thoroughly. 
But  I  have  trusted  you  only  to  try  you  afterwards,  the  more  severely. 
Are  you  ready  ]     Have  you  faith  in  me  ?     Give  me  your  hand  !" 

Frankly,  almost  joyously,  was  the  hand  extended,  and  tightly  grasp- 
ed by  the  other. 

''  Now,  then,  my  other  hand  upon  your  heart.  And  now,  listen  ! 
I  killed  3'oung  Hammercloth  !" 

The  two  hands  remained  firm-locked  and  motionless — the  heart  of 
the  young  man  beat  beneath  this  terrific  confidence  calmly  as  the  throb 
of  music. 

Earnest,  folding  CeHo  closely  in  his  arms  ;  "  trust  on — you  shall 
not  be  betrayed.  I  will  not  now  insult  you  by  a  single  word  of  ex- 
planation, but  simply  tell  you  that  I  am  innocent  and  was  perfectly 
justifiable  in  slaying  that  man — or  rather,  that  under  the  circumstan- 
ces I  deserved  praise  instead  of  censure.  This  discovery,  however, 
will  lead  to  the  most  annoying  consequenc(^s — among  the  least  of  which 
will  be  the  bringing  that  malicious  old  villian  Pipson  upon  my  back. 
He  knows  all  about  it.  You  stare — but  put  that  along  with  the  rest 
in  your  big  curiosity  bottle,  my  dear  boy.  Every  thing  shall  be  clear- 
ed up  in  due  time." 


112  CELIO. 

*'  But  what  is  to  be  done  at  once  ?" 

"  Nothing.  It  would  be  easy  for  me  to  escape,  but  I  shall  not 
shrink  from  the  full  investigation  of  this  unfortunate  affair.  Keno 
will  probably  be  arrested  to-night,  and  I  must  go  and  take  his  place 
— in  the  murderer's  cell.  I  think  you  grow  a  little  pale  at  that, 
Celio  !  But  courage  !  All  will  yet  be  well.  You  shall  see  how 
truth  can  make  itself  apparent  to  all  men.  Fortunately  I  am  not 
publicly  identified  with  the  paper,  so  that  this  affair  will  do  it  no  in- 
jury. I  smell  Pipson  in  this  affair,  and  had  better  anticipate  him,  if 
possible.     Good  bye  !     You  can  come  and  see  me  to-morrow. 

Celio,  however,  taking  the  arm  of  his  friend,  went  with  him  with- 
out saying  a  word.  Once,  Earnest  stopped  as  if  he  would  have  per- 
suaded him  to  return ;  but  marking  the  expression  of  his  face,  the 
idea  was  abandoned,  and  the  two  friends  passed  on  in  silence. 

Earnest  was  not  too  soon ;  as  when  he  arrived  at  the  Tombs  an 
unusual  stir  for  that  hour  of  the  evening  was  apparent ;  and  upon 
entering  the  office  of  the  Police  Justice,  the  first  sight  he  encounter- 
ed was  the  over-dressed  form  and  bland  face  of  Mr.  Ferdinand  Keno, 
supported  by  a  cluster  of  police-officers  on  each  side.  The  usual 
self-satisfied  expression  of  his  countenance  was  but  slightly  disturb- 
ed, although  a  sort  of  dismayed  helplessness  was  half  peeping  out 
at  his  eyes.  He  instantly  descried  Earnest,  and  held  out  his  hands 
towards  him  eagerly,  exclaiming — 

"  Ah,  my  dear  friend,  I  knew  you  would  come  to  relieve  me  from 
this  cursed  predicament.     How  good  of  you!" 

"  I  have  come,  sir,''  said  Earnest,  walking  straight  up  to  the  mag- 
istrate's desk,  "  to  give  myself  up  as  the  person  who  killed  Stephen 
Hammercloth.  The  act  was  justifiable,  as  I  am  abundantly  pre- 
pared to  prove.  Among  my  principal  witnesses  is  Mr.  Keno.  He 
is  in  no  way  concerned  in  the  affair,  but  knows  all  about  it.  His 
testimony  will  be  destroyed  or  confirmed,  according  as  he  speaks 
true  or  falsely,  but  it  is  necessary  he  be  retained.  I  will  not  be 
cruel  enough  to  demand  an  examination  to-night,  because  I  can  very 
well  rest  in  a  cell  till  morning.  I  shall  sleep  quite  as  soundly  as  in 
my  own  bed.  Celio,  my  dear  friend,  go  to  my  lodgings  and  leave 
word  for  Mr.  Merivale  to  appear  here  in  my  behalf,  at  ten  to-mor- 
row morning. — Also" — 

^'  You  are  getting  along  rather  too  fast,  young  man,  as  it  seems 
to  me,"  interposed  the  querulous  justice.  ''  Your  not  wishing  to 
keep  me  here  all  night  was  all  very  proper  and  considerate,  and  much 
better  than  the  general  run  of  your  high-priced  criminals.  But  we 
shall  not  examine  you  till  Friday.  That  is  the  earliest  day  that 
can  possibly  be  spared.  Clerk,  make  out  a  committal.  What's 
your  name?" 

"  Francis  Earnest." 

"No  aliases?" 

"  I  do  not  understand  Latin,  sir,"  returned  Earnest,  with  an  al- 
most imperceptible  smile. 


BLACK    MAIL.  113 

*'  No  insolence,  sir  !     It  will  do  you  no  good  here." 

"  I  had  no  intention  of  being  insolent — but  your  question  itself 
was  an  insult,  "which  you  had  no  right  to  offer.  I  am  no  lawyer,  sir, 
but  I  know  that  you  transcend  your  authority  in  putting  off  my  ex- 
amination.    I  demand  that  it  take  place  to-morrow  morning.'' 

''  Well,  you  needn't  make  any  noise  about  it — we'll  see.  If  we 
have  time,  we  had  as  lief  examine  you  in  the  morning  as  ever.  Let 
it  be  set  down  for  to-morrow  morning,  (turning  to  the  clerk.)  Now, 
then,"  he  continued  in  a  tone  rather  more  civil  than  judicial,  "  is 
there  any  tiling  else  you  would  like  to  have  done]" 

"  Thank  you,  sir — I  simply  request  that  you  shall  summon 
Charles  Merivale,  who  is  at  No. Warren  street,  and  Job  Pip- 
son,  broker,  to  the  examination  of  this  case  to-morrow  morning.  I 
suppose  Mr.  Keno  can  go,  as  I  acknowledge  to  have  killed  the  man 
without  abetting  or  assistance  from  any  person." 

"  We'll  take  care  of  Mr.  Keno.     Officer,  do  your  duty." 

A  silent  grasp  of  hands  was  exchanged  between  Earnest  and  Celio 
— a  glance  in  which  the  two  men  ratified  once  more  their  eternal 
faith  in  each  other.  Both  were  sad,  but  neither  was  unhappy. 
Great  souls  cannot  be  unhappy. 

As  Celio  passed  into  the  vestibule,  on  his  way  to  the  street,  he  was 
accosted  by  an  individual,  who,  taking  him  behind  one  of  the  huge 
pillars,  said,  in  a  low  voice,  and  with  a  mysterious  motion  of  th^ 
thumb  over  the  left  shoulder, 

'^  Don't  want  it  mentioned  in  the  morning  papers,  I  suppose  ?" 

"Want  what  mentioned 7" 

"  Why,  the  arrest  of  your  friend  for  murder. — Perhaps  it'll  all 
blow  over,  you  know.  Now  I  can  keep  it  out  of  the  whole  of  'em. 
I  report  for  six  of  the  papers  myself,  and  am  on  intimate  terms  with 
the  reporter  of  the  Morning  Dash." 

"  Well." 

"  Well — you  see — ^the  trouble — that  is  the  expense — for  the  Dash 
fellow  is  an  incorrigible  fellow  for  the  black  mail — " 

"How  much  will  do  the  business  ?" 

'^Um—^ifty  dollars." 

"If  you  will  bring  the  Dash  reporter  to  me,  and  get  him  to  prom- 
ise to  suppress  the  report,  I  will  give  you  a  hundred.  You'll  find  me 
at  the  Dash  office  any  time  till  midnight." 

"  Who  are  you,  then '?  " 

"  My  name  is  Celio." 

"The  — !  Sold,  by  Jupiter!"  muttered  the  fellow,  as  he 

turned  away. 

Instead  of  returning  to  his  office,  Celio  crossed  the  Park,  in  the 
rear  of  the  City  Hall,  and  rang  at  the  house  designated  by  Captain 
Earnest  as  the  dwelling  of  Mr.  Merivale.  Who  Merivale  was,  Ce- 
lio had  no  idea,  except  that  he  was  a  friend  of  Earnest,  and  knew 
something  about  the  present  case.  He  therefore  determined  to  ap- 
prise him  at  once  of  what  had  taken  place,  and  warn  him  to  hold 
himself  in  readiness. 


114 


CELIO, 


After  waiting,  as  it  seemed  to  him  an  hour  at  the  door,  it  was 
opened  by  a  slouchy  servant,  with  her  petticoat  in  one  hand,  and  a 
spoon  in  the  other.  In  reply  to  his  question  whether  Mr.  Merivale 
was  in,  the  girl  said,  in  broad  Irish,  that  she  would  go  and  ax  him. 
"  Do,  my  good  girl,  and  tell  him  that  a  friend  of  Captain  Earnest 
wishes  to  see  him  on  particular  business." 

In  a  few  minutes  Merivale  made  his  appearance. — Celio  would 
have  apologized  for  disturbing  him  ;  but  Merivale  assured  him  that 
anything  relating  to  Earnest  was  deeply  interesting  to  him  as  if  it 
referred  solely  to  himself. 

"  I  have  rather  disagreeable  news  of  our  friend." 
''  Pardon  me,  but  is  not  your  name  Celio'?" 
^'Itis." 

"  I  knew  it  by  Earnest's  description  of  you.  He  promised  to  give 
me  the  pleasure  of  introducing  me  to  you  this  very  evening." 

"  Our  friend  has  just  introduced  himself,  I  am  sorry  to  say,  to 
the  head  keeper  of  the  Tombs."  And  Celio  then  went  on  to  give  a 
rapid  history  of  the  strange  events  of  the  evening. 

'''  How  providential,"  at  length  exclaimed  Merivale,  after  a  long 
pause,  "  that  I  am  here  !  For  I  doubt  if  without  my  testimony  he 
could  establish  the  facts  in  the  case  without  difficulty.  The  Doctor 
who  was  present  on  the  occasion  is  in  Europe — Keno  is  not  at  all 
to  be  relied  on  ;  and  as  to  the  old  broker,  I  don't  believe  in  him  at 
all. — But  all  this  is  Greek  to  you.  In  due  time  you  shall  know  all. 
But  now  let  us  hasten  to  set  Captain  Earnest  free — for  I  cannot 
believe  the  magistrate  will  think  it  necessary  to  detain  him  a  mo- 
ment after  hearing  my  testimony." 

"  It  is  useless  to  attempt  any  thing  to-night.  The  magistrate  at 
first  refused  to  have  any  thing  to  do  with  the  case  till  Friday ;  but, 
induced,  probably,  by  the  fear  of  a  habeas  corpus^,  that  dire  enemy  of 
judicial  tyrants — he  at  last  consented  to  hold  the  examination  to-mor- 
row morning.     Before  then  nothing  can  be  done." 

"  So  I  perceive — but  still  I  must  go  and  see  my  friend  to-night." 
"  Very  good — we  will  go  together." 

They  had  just  crossed  Broadway  and  were  about  entering  the  Park 
by  the  central  gate,  when  four  or  five  men  rushed  suddenly  upon 
them  and  threw  a  bag  over  the  head  of  each.  Then  burying  them 
into  a  carriage  that  stood  at  the  curbstone,  the  door  was  closed  and 
the  vehicle  drove  furiously  off. 


DESIRABLE    LOCATIONS.  ll$i 


CHAPTER  XIX. 


A  Touch  at  the  Twelfth  Ward — Specifics  for  the  Cholera 
->  A  BIT  of  Musical  Criticism.  Mr.  Pipson  in  a  new  char- 
acter, "  for  one  night  only." 


The  cottage  in  -whicli  Signora  Gherlandina  resided  was  situated  in 
a  lonely  spot  in  the  suburbs,  surrounded  by  open  lots,  rubbish-heaps, 
lumber-yards,  and  the  other  offal  with  which  a  large  city  surrounds 
itself  as  with  a  rampart,  thrown  up  out  of  its  own  grave.     The  view 
to  the  northward  and  westward  was  bounded  by  a  long  line  of  Irish 
cabins,  while  the  dreary  intervale  was  interspersed  with  picturesquely 
planted  mounds  of  filth,  impregnating  the  atmosphere  with  a  mingling 
of  foul  odors  as  Mr.  Liebig  or  Professor  Mapes  would  attempt  in  vain 
to  analyze  ;  and  when  the  wind  came  from  that  quarter  it  was  neces- 
sary to  keep  the  windows  hermetically  closed,  if  one  would  avoid 
suffocation.     Away  to  the  eastward  tall  spires  of  black  or  pitchy 
smoke  rose  into  the  sky,  from  the  chimneys  of  half-a-dozen  soap 
manufactories,  distilleries  and  establishments  for  boiling  bones,  which 
deposited  a  faint  and  putrid  odor  in  the  atmosphere,  and  sent  death 
and  destruction  abroad  throughout  the  whole  neighborhood.      To 
complete  the  miseries  of  these  miserable  regions,  a  law  had  recently 
been  passed  expelling  all  the  hogs  (those  described  as  such  in  Natural 
History,)  from  the  thickly-populated  portion  of  the  city,  and  they  had 
consequently  been  collected  together  in  immense  styes  in  the  suburbs, 
to  still  farther  poison  the  tainted  air  and  send  their  clouds  of  pesti- 
lential efiluvia  to  stagnate  through  the  streets  and  squares   of  the 
adjacent  city.     In  these  regions  shrewd  and  adventurous  landlords, 
greedy  of  pelf  and  recking  not  of  the  lives  of  their  tenants  nor  of  the 
public  health,  so  that  their  coffers  were  well  lined,  have  erected  here 
and  there  sham  buildings  infested  with  mis-shapen  porticoes  and  mis- 
placed ornaments — checkered  with  staring  diamond  windows  and  bro- 
ken out  in  an  erj^sipelas  of  red  and  brown — which  they  advertise  in 
the  Courier  and  Tribune  as  "  elegant  residences  for  genteel  families, 
in  genteel  and  desirable  locations,  and  having  all  the  modern  improve- 
ments."    All  citizens  who  "  know  the  ropes,"  keep   shy  enough  of 
these  sporadic  hospitals,  with  their  grotesque  trumpery  ornaments, 
looking  like  some  rare  quadruped  from  the  South  Sea  Islands,  lying 
on  its  back  with  its  legs  sticking  in  the  air.     But  strangers  who  come 
from  the  healthful  and  odor-breathing  mountains  of  Georgia,  to 
*'  spend  the  summer  at  the  North,"  are   sometimes  caught  in  these 
traps,  and  generally  leave  a  portion  of  their  number  behind  fhem, 
Fdt  the  most  part,  however,  these  dwellings  are  occupied  by  foreign 
musicians  and  artists,  who,  seldom  being  dissipated  and  always  am- 
bitious, have  a  desire  to  live  in  a  genteel  house  although  surrounded 
by  filtli  and  all  sorts  of  abominations  knee  deep. 


116 


CELIO. 


Such  was  the  "  beautiful  Uttle  cottage"  occupied  by  Signora 
Gherlandini  and  something  less  than  a  score  of  comers  and  goers, 
attached  to  the  opera,  and  who  constantly  herd  together — generally, 
however,  in  hostile  little  cliques  and  factions^ — at  the  dwellings  of 
such  as  have  homes  of  their  own. 

There  was,  first  of  all,  the  primo  tenor  assoluto^  a  gentleman  who 
opened  his  mouth  very  wide  when  he  sang  and  shut  his  eyes  propor- 
tionably  tight.     His  principal  greatness  was  in  a  pair  of  blacksmith's 
bellows  which  he  carried  beneath  the  vest,  and  his  grandest   effort 
might  be  termed  a  sort  of  musical  gymnastics,  in  which  he  not  only 
(to  borrow  a  word  from  the  critics)  "attacked"  his  upper  notes  but 
held  on  to  them  like  a  cur  to  a  pig's  ear,  and  with  nearly  as  musical 
an  effect.     However,  nobody  had  ever  heard  any  such  thing  before ; 
and  for  fear  it  might  be  "  very  great,"  nobody  dared  say  it  was  ex- 
ecrable.    The  great  tenor  was  therefore  puffed  and  lauded  and  bou- 
quetted  and  ogled  and  dinnercd  and  palavered,  until  his  own  dull 
brain  began  to  conceive  the  idea  that  he  really  was  a  great  man — 
and  his  airs  he  assumed  in  private  and  in  the  green-room,  were  even 
more  insufferable  than  those  he  murdered  upon  the  stage.     He  was 
walking  the  little  parlors  of  Signora  Gherlandini's  cottage,  quite  ab- 
stracted in  the  intricacies  of  a  cadenza  he  was  studying  for  the  pur- 
pose of  introducing  it  extempore  into  his  next  evening's  performances, 
and  seemed  to  take  no  note  of  the  little  groups  assembled  upon  and 
around  the  chintz  settees,  lounges  and  ottomans.     The  hostess  her- 
self was  in  great  force,  and  the  pale  blue  silk  dress  was  cut  lower 
and  beflounced  more  heavily — and  we  venture  to  say  contained  more . 
yards  of  material — than  ever  before  fell  to  the  lot  of  pale  blue  silk 
slip.     Her  cheeks  were  as  red  as  peonies,  and  her  whole  face  was 
lighted  up  with  a  rosy  glow.     Her  eyes — even  age  respects  the  eyes 
of  pretty  women — were  still  large  and  clear,  and  liquid,  and  orientally 
oval  as  ever,  and  at  a  little  distance,  when  standing  still,  she  was  yet 
that  most  desperate  of  bankrupts,  "  a  very  fine  women  for  her  age." 
What  that  was  is  not  recorded  in  any  almanac  with  which  we  are 
familiar.     She  was  seated  on  an  ottoman  near  the  center  of  the  room, 
with  the  maestro  dell' orchestra  and  the  comprimaria,  the  mother  and 
sister  of  the  second  tenor's  wife,  and   two  or  three   of  tlie   leading 
chorus-girls.       The    principal    baritone   had  been  a   barber  in  St. 
Petersburgh,  although  he  too  became  transmuted  into  an  Italian  when 
he  jumped  over  the  footlights,  and  now  sported  a  genuine  "  ano"  at 
the  end  of  his  name.     But  his  especial  glory  was  in  a  pair  of  soft, 
silken,  shining  black  whiskers.     Most  of  his  leisure  time   was  spent 
in  oiling,  combing  and  curling  these  splendid  ornaments,  in  which  he 
showed  plainly  that  the  world  had  lost  a  superb  hair-drosser  when  he 
leaped  the  foot-lights — whatever  it  might  have  gained  in  the  way  of 
a  singer.     Little,  however,  did  he  care  of  tlie  oi)inionh  of  others — he 
was  far  too  well  satisfied  with  himself  to  be  troubled  by  any  outside 
judgments.     On  the  stage  he  was  ever  and  always  Figaro — Figaro 
here,  Figaro  there,  Figaro  every  where.     And  as  it  chanced  that  tlie 


NIN.A  INTRODUCED  TO  HER  PROFESSIONAL   FRIENDS.  117 

taste  of  the  public — or  rather  the  calibre  of  the  company — just  then 
rendered  opera  seria  all  the  go,  poor  Signor  Krakoffano  invariably 
cut  the  most  ludicrous  figure  imaginable.  But  if  he  was  a  curiosity 
on  the  stage,  he  was  a  veritable  spectacle  in  the  drawing-room. 
His  face  was  unobjectionably  handsome,  and  he  seemed  to  keep  it, 
as  well  as  his  whiskers,  continually  lubricated  with  olive  oil,  which 
gave  it  a  peculiar,  yellowish  look  very  characteristic  and  succulent. 
He  was  at  the  present  moment  doing  the  honors  to  the  hostess  and 
her  bevy  of  beauties.  They  were  all  very  earnestly  engaged  in  con- 
versation, and  all  speaking  at  once — evei:y  one  almost  in  a  different 
dialect  of  the  "  bella  lingua" — which  is  almost  as  much  cut  up  as 
the  stuflfing  of  Bologna  sausages.  Indeed,  had  one  not  acquainted 
with  the  peculiarly  energetic  and  gesticulatory  manner  of  conversation 
universally  employed  by  foreigners,  looked  in  upon  this  assemblage, 
he  would  have  imagined  that  it  was  a  hostile  consultation  very  likely  to 
end  in  bloodshed. 

One  by  one  the  company  came  dropping  in,  until  the  rooms  were 
nearly  full.  All  at  once  a  little  bustle  took  place  in  the  hall,  and 
Nina  entered,  accompanied  by  Signor  Sartori,  formerly  the  wardrobe- 
keeper  of  a  second-rate  theater  in  Paris,  but  now  advanced  to  the 
honors  of  second  tenor  of  the  Italian  Opera  of  the  United  States  of 
North  America.  He  was  a  fat,  light-haired  German,  and  loved 
nothing  but  sour  wine  and  saer-krout.  So — as  his  wife  wasn't  at 
all  jealous  of  him — a  very  rare  thing,  I  can  tell  you,  to  say  of  an 
Italian  or  any  other  wife — he  had  been  despatched  to  bring  Nina  to 
the  scene  of  action. 

And  now  for  the  first  time  during  her  remembrance  she  found 
herself  domiciled  as  it  were  among  the  members  of  her  own  profess- 
ion— each  trying  to  outvie  each  other  in  the  extravagance  of  his  pro- 
fessions and  the  grotesqueness  of  his  demonstrations — for  when  a  wo- 
man really  undertakes  to  be  civil,  you  may  tliink  yourself  lucky  if 
you  are  not  eaten  up  on  the  spot.  They  were  all  so  happy  that  she 
had  at  length  come  among  them — they  had  suffered  so  keenly  from 
the  absence  of  the  brightest  ornament  of  their  profession — they  were 
glad  indeed  to  have  so  fair  an  excuse  for  still  being  proud  of  Italy — 
povera  Italia  /  The  baritone  rose  as  she  advanced  into  the  room  ; 
cut  a  caper  with  a  chair  which  he  balanced  on  the  toe  of  his  north- 
east leg,  while  it  spun  a  minuet  with  the  grace  of  Cerito  and  leaped 
gracefully  in  front  of  Nina,  inviting  her  to  be  seated  while  the  barber 
— we  mean  the  baritone — grinned  and  looked  as  amiable  as  if  he  had 
just  seated  a  rich  customer  and  were  about  saying,  "  shave  you  in  a 
minute,  sir  !"  The  maestro  delV  orchestra  and  the  maestro  de^  cori 
sprang  forward  at  the  same  moment  to  pay  their  respects  ;  and  com- 
ing from  opposite  directions,  their  heads  met  in  the  center  with  force 
enough — not  to  do  any  material  damage  of  either,  but  to  send  them 
each  reeling  several  paces  backward  to  his  seat  again,  while  Nina, 
strange  and  uneasy  as  she  felt  in  a  position  so  completely  novel  to  her, 
could  not  forbear  a  hearty  laugh.     This  did  more  to  break  the  ice  than 


118  CELIO. 

could  have  been  accomplished  by  hours  of  management  and  calcula- 
tion. There  is  something  in  an  innocent  woman's  laugh  that  melts 
all  hearts,  as  the  voice  of  Spring  unlocks  the  frozen  lakes  and  streams, 
and  sets  every  thing  gushing  and  dancing  to  sweetest  music.  Even 
the  primo  tenor  assoluto  paused  in  the  two  hundred  and  seventeenth 
rehearsal  of  the  improvised  cadenza  with  which  he  was  on  the  next 
evening  to  electrify  the  critics  and  enrapture  the  ladies.  Turning 
in  the  direction  whence  that  fountainous  laugh  was  leaping,  he  im- 
mediately hurried  to  pay  his  allegiance  to  the  queen  of  the  evening — 
which  he  did  with  an  air  and  accent  of  the  profoundest  sincerity. 
It  is  wonderful,  the  sincere  hypocrisy  of  professional  life .  Necessity, 
the  degradation  of  abominable  conventionalism  and  the  miserable 
selfishness  and  competition  of  their  profession,  generally  have  made 
them  jealous,  envious,  malicious  and  overbearing;  but  in  their  social 
manner^  in  their  tone  of  voice  and  speaking  eye,  and  in  the  pantomime 
of  the  body,  which  more  than  all  else  betrays  the  real  feeling  of  the 
heart  within,  there  is  ever  present  the  natural,  inextinguishable  as- 
piration for  universal  love  and  brotherhood.  No  people  are  so  pro- 
foundly affectionate,  none  so  absurdly  fickle,  as  they  :  none  are  so 
innately  delicate  and  well-bred,  yet  few  more  coarsely  impudent — 
none  more  cruel,  none  so  tender-hearted.  They  are  made  of  positive 
qualities  and  their  opposites — and  as  they  are  born,  reared,  live  and 
die  in  a  state  of  utter  and  absolute  inversion,  it  is  almost  inevitable 
that  the  opposites  of  their  good  qualities  should  alone  act,  while  those 
qualities  themselves  are  seldom  suffered  to  appear. 

Every  thing  was  now  in  readiness,  and  fun  was  the  order  of  the 
evening.  A  company  of  school-children  turned  out  for  a  holiday 
could  no  sooner  nor  more  completely  have  forgotten  all  their  quarrels, 
jealousies  and  heart-burnings  than  they.  Various  games  were  pro- 
posed, but  all  gave  way  to  the  hostess,  who  suggested  that  most  Italian 
and  delightful  play  called  La  Musica  Magica.  The  method  of  carry- 
ing on  this  game  deserves  describing. 

The  maestro  delP  orchestra  having  taken  his  seat  at  the  piano,  the 
play  began.  One  of  the  company  retired  outside  the  door  while  a 
consultation  went  on  as  to  what  particular  thing  lie  should  be  required 
to  do  on  his  return.  At  length,  after  considerable  discussion,  it  was 
settled  upon  and  the  necessary  direction  communicated  to  the  pianist. 
All  now  assumed  a  grave  and  demure  aspect — the  hostess  clapped 
her  hands,  and  the  pilgrim  (it  was  the  inevitable  second  tenor)  re- 
entered. He  was  evidently  an  old  hand  at  his  business,  and  went 
to  work  systematically. 

Now  the  idea  is  that  whenever  the  gucsser  approaches  the  person 
or  the  object  with  which  or  whom  his  task  is  connected,  the  music 
gradually  grows  softer  and  softer  ;  and  if  lie  continue  to  go  right,  it 
dies  away  into  siknice,  and  the  task  is  accompHslioil.  But  the  mo- 
ment he  makes  a  false  step,  looks  in  a  wrong  direction  or  touches  a 
wrong  object,  the  music  snaps  out  fiercely  its  dis])leasure  ;  and  if 
the  bewildered  gucsser  still  goes  wrong  the  piano  gets  up  an  excite 


Nina's  introduction  to  pipson.  119 

ment  directly  and  growls  and  roars  like  a  menagerie. — Signor  Sartori, 
however,  was,  as  we  have  said,  an  old  hand ;  and  commencing  in  the 
corner  nearest  the  door,  he  took  hold  of  a  shawl  which  hung  across 
the  arm  of  a  sofa.  The  music  lulled  away  serenely ;  ])ut  it  hurst 
out  furiously  when  he  attempted  to  put  the  shawl  round  his  own  shoul- 
ders. Finding  that  this  wouldn't  answer,  he  offered  to  wrap  it  ahout 
the  fair  form  of  the  hostess — but  that  was  no  whit  more  satisfactory 
to  the  piano  ;  and  it  was  not  until  Signor  Sartori  had  invested  the 
shoulders  of  the  pianist  himself  with  the  shawl  that  his  fingers  paused 
and  lay  silently  upon  the  contented  ivory. 

The  ice  being  now  fairly  broken,  the  fun  went  on  with  increased 
g-usto.  One  after  another,  men  and  women,  all  had  enacted  their 
pilgrimages,  except  Nina  and  an  elderly,  quiet-seeming  gentleman, 
who  had  glided  in  noiselessly  but  a  little  while  before,  and  taken  a 
seat  in  a  darkened  corner,  where  he  could  watch  every  thing  that 
went  on,  without  being  himself  scarcely  seen  or  noticed.  Nina  indeed 
had  not  seen  him  at  all.  Now,  however,  the  hostess  brought  him 
forward  to  take  his  turn  at  guessing,  and  Nina  recognized  the  old 
main  whose  keen  face  and  cunning  eyes,  had  so  often  made  her 
shudder  in  the  Green-Room  when  she  saw  them  turned  upon  herself, 
while  their  owner  seemed  to  be  intently  listening  to  Signora  Gherlan- 
dini.  The  first  time  she  encountered  him  in  the  theater  she  experi- 
enced an  unpleasant  sensation,  as  if  she  had  met  him  before  and  under 
painful  circumstances .  But  she  could  not  recall  the  circumstances  to 
her  mind,  and  had  only  continued  to  regard  him  as  an  unpleasant, 
perhaps  noxious  animal,  whenever  she  had  accidentally  encountered 
him  in  the  Green-Room  or  about  the  wings.  He  seemed  to  be  the 
avowed  admirer  of  Signora  Gherlandini  and  with  perhaps  half  a  smile, 
at  their  mutual  forbearance  and  good  taste,  she  dismissed  them  from 
her  thoughts.  Now,  however,  Mr.  Pipson  was  encountered  in  a 
more  decided  manner. 

"  Signorina,"  said  the  hostess,  bringing  Mr.  Pipson  forward,  who 
seemed  shy  and  uneasy,  "  this  is  my  particular  friend,  Mr.  Pipson — 
Mr.  Pipson,  La  Signorina — for  such  indeed  she  deserves  to  be  called." 

"  I  hope,  madam,"  said  Pipson,  bowing  to  the  ground,  and  holding 
his  hat  by  both  hands  over  his  heart,  "  that  you  will  permit  me  to 
express  to  you  how  much  I  was  delighted,  the  other  evening,  at  your 
ti  ^..tment  of  that  insufferable  coxcomb  young  Stubbs.  It  was  exactly 
what  he  deserved.  His  father,  my  dear  madam,  commenced  life  as 
a  soap  boiler. — I  know  it." 

Nina  instinctively  feared  and  hated  this  man — ^why  she  did  not  stop 
to  ask  herself — and  she  felt  an  unconquerable  disposition  to  say  some- 
thing bitter  and  contemptuous  to  him.  It  was  not  her  nature— she 
had  never  desired  to  do  so  before  to  any  human  being.  But  she 
could  not  repress  her  present  impulse. 

"  Were  you  then  an  old  acquaintance  of  his  in  the  soap-boiling 
business  '?"  she  inquired,  with  so  much  simpUcity  that  Pipson,  sharp 
as  he  was,  never  suspected  that  she  was  laughing  at  him. 


120  CELIO. 

"  Oh  no,  I  am  not  quite  old  enough  for  that,  "  he  at  length  re- 
•  plied. 

"  I  am  very  glad  of  that,"  she  continued,  in  the  same  careless, 
childlike  tone  and  manner,  "  for  I  hate  old  people — don't  you  hate 
old  people,  Mr.  Pipson?" 

"  Ye-es — that  is,  most  old  people,  "  stammered  out  the  antiquated 
lecher,  smoothing  his  forehead  with  his  hand  and  settling  his  wig 
with  an  energetic  jerk  at  the  ears.  "  But  then  you  know  my  dear 
young  lady,  that  we  are  all  liable  to  get  old.  Even  you  and  I  must 
grow  old  some  day." 

"  I  deny  that." 

"  How  are  you  to  prevent  it,  Signorina  ?  If  you  would  make  me 
worship  you  outright,  you  have  only  to  tell  me  your  beautiful  secret." 

"  By  dying  while  I  am  young.  As  for  you, — but  excuse  me,  the 
play  is  stopped.     Whose  turn  is  itl     Quick,  quick  !" 

"  It  is  your  turn,  pretty  one,"  said  the  hostess.  "  So  set  your 
wits  at  work,  for  we  mean  to  puzzle  them  if  possible." 

But  it  was  not  possible.  Upon  re-entering  the  room,  she  listened 
intently  to  the  music  a  moment,  as  if  she  could  read  in  its  mystie 
sounds  the  thoughts  of  the  player  :  then,  walking  directly  up  to  Pip- 
son,  while  the  music  murmured  in  dying  tones  its  acquiescence,  she 
stopped  it  front  of  him  and  began  looking  at  him  in  a  comical  sort 
of  puzzle.  But  this  lasted  only  a  moment.  Seeming  to  have  divined 
what  was  required  of  her,  she  caught  Pipson  by  the  hand  and  began 
whirling  round  the  room  in  a  bewildering  waltz,  while  the  old  fellow, 
taken  all  aback  by  the  suddeness  of  the  assault,  could  only  hold  fast 
to  his  wig  with  his  disengaged  hand,  and  endeavor  now  and  then  to 
recover  his  equilibrium. 

This  laughable  performance,  which  Nina  appeared  to  enjoy  to  the 
full,  closed  the  entertainment  of  the  evening,  and  the  company  soon 
began  dispersing.  Upon  looking  for  the  second  tenor,  it  was  ascer- 
tained that  he  had  as  usual  got  too  much  vin  rosso,  and  had  been 
taken  home  by  his  wife.  The  other  gentlemen  had  disappeared  ;  and 
so  Nina  was  perforce  compelled  to  accept  Signora  Gherlandini's  press- 
ing invitation  to  stay  until  morning.  However,  she  almost  wept 
when  she  remembered  poor  Mrs.  Carleton  and  how  unliappy  and  sad 
that  dear  friend  would  be  when  she  found  that  her  willful  charge  did 
not  return.  But  there  seemed  to  be  literally  no  help  for  it. — The 
house  was  lonely  and  far  away  from  cabs  or  conveyance  of  any  kind, 
and  it  was  already  past  midnight.  So,  swallowing  down  her  vague 
yet  pressing  forebodings,  she  took  the  candle  from  the  hand  of  the 
hostess,  who  had  attended  her  to  the  door  of  her  bed- room,  and  bid- 
ding her  good  night,  timidly,  almost  sadly  entered. 


A  lilGHT's    ADVENTURES.  121 

CHAPTER  XX. 

A  NIGHT    ADVENTURE — A  POLICE    OFFICER  AND  GRATITUDE. 

When  Merivale  and  Celio  were  thurst  into  the  cab,  they  were  at 
first  so  completely  paralyzed  by  the  suddenness  of  the  event  as  to 
lose  for  an  instant  their  presence  of  mind.  Involuntarily  grasping 
each  other  by  the  hand,  they  remained  for  a  few  moments  in  silence  ; 
and  at  length,  by  a  reversion  not  unnatural  to  gay  spirits,  Merivale 
and  Celio  burst  simultaneously  into  a  laugh,  exclaiming,  ^'  what  the 
devil,  CeUo !  what  does  all  this  mean?"  "I  am  sure,"  replied 
Celio,  "  that  I  would  give  any  reasonable  sum  to  be  able  to  answer 
that  question ;  but  time,  the  ancient  enemy  of  the  Sphynx  and  all  her 
progeny  of  riddles,  will  doubtless  solve  this  one  if  we  only  have  a 
little  patience." 

"  Yes,"  replied  Merivale,  "  that  is  true  enough ;  but  what  has 
become  of  Captain  Earnest  all  this  time  ?  Remember  that  his  lib- 
erty and  perhaps  his  very  life  must  be  decided  in  a  few  hours." 

For  more  than  an  hour  they  rode  swiftly  over  the  stony  pave- 
ments, exhausting  the  time  in  fruitless  speculations  as  to  the  cause 
of  their  sudden  arrest,  and  more  especially  as  to  who  could  be  its 
author.  They  were  not  long  in  coming  to  the  conclusion  that  some 
one,  an  enemy  to  Captain  Earnest,  must  be  at  the  bottom  of  the 
movement,  and  that  its  purpose  was  to  prevent  the  appearance  of 
Merivale  at  the  examination  which  was  to  take  place  the  next  morn- 
ing. Earnest  however  was  in  the  constant  habit  of  so  surrounding 
his  movements  with  mystery,  that  nothing  definite  nor  satisfactory 
came  to  assist  their  vague  surmises.  At  length  the  carriage  stopped 
and  the  door  opened,  while  two  men  appeared  at  either  side,  one  bear- 
ing a  dark  lantern.  The  other  who  seemed  to  be  the  master  of  cer- 
emonies on  this  curious  occasion,  was  a  short,  bunchy  little  man,  with 
a  cracked  voice,  and  a  pecuhar  system  of  gesticulation,  like  a  piece 
of  machinery  out  of  order ;  in  short,  this  short  little  man  was  no 
other  than  our  old  and  bunchy  friend,  Mr.  Bunch  himself.  Pitching 
his  voice  at  the  hight  of  its  soprono  register,  he  ordered  the  two 
gentlemen  to  alight  and  follow  him.  Celio  reached  his  head  out  of 
the  carriage,  and  seeing  but  two  men  in  charge  of  them,  withdrew  for  an 
instant,  and  whispered  to  his  companion  that  they  had  better  make 
a  dash  for  it. 

''  I  do  not  think  you  had  better  do  any  such  thing,  my  covey,"  im- 
mediately interposed  Mr.  Bunch,  "  because  as  how  you  see,  though 
we  aint  but  two  on  us,  this  here  little  rewolver  stands  for  as  good  as 
six  more  ;"  and  he  pointed  a  patent  six-shooter  at  the  head  of  our 
somewhat  dismayed  friend. 

Seeing  how  matters  stood,  the  two  gentlemen  concluded  wisely  that 


122  CELIO. 

resistance  would  be  worse  than  useless  ;  and  recalling  to  mind  the 
power  of  address  and  cultivated  intellect  over  the  brute  creation, 
including  that  most  brutal  of  all  animals,  a  brutal  man,  decided  to 
wait  the  course  of  events  and  employ  every  other  means  before  re- 
sorting to  force.  They  therefore  quietly  left  the  carriage  and  followed 
tlie  redoubtable  Mr.  Bunch,  who,  by  way  of  precaution,  backed  him- 
self in  front  of  them,  holding  the  six-shooter  at  arms  length,  into  a 
low,  dark,  dreary-looking  little  house.  From  the  appearance  of  the 
neighborhood,  as  well  as  could  be  ascertained  by  the  misty  beams  of 
a  gas-lamp  or  two,  dying  away  in  the  distance,  they  must  have  been 
riding  round  and  round  in  the  heart  of  the  city,  and  had  at  last  alight- 
ed at  a  den  in  the  vicinity  of  the  Five  Points.  Entering  the  front 
door,  wliich  the  companion  of  Mr.  Bunch,  who  brought  up  the  rear, 
carefully  barred  behind  them,  they  were  ushered  into  a  dismal,  squalid 
little  apartment,  resembling  more  a  cavern  under  ground,  sacred  to 
toads  and  newts,  than  any  thing  intended  to  answer  the  purposes  of 
a  human  habitation.  A  plain  wooden  bench,  divaning  one  half  of 
the  rough- cast  wall,  constituted  the  entire  stock  of  movables  with 
which  this  room  was  ornamented.  Upon  this  bench  Celio  and  Meri- 
vale  seated  themselves,  while  Bunch,  his  revolver  still  in  his  hand, 
dismissed  his  companion,  gathered  the  skirts  of  his  policeman's  coat 
about  him,  drew  his  India  rubber  cap  over  his  face,  and  crouching 
dog-like  in  the  opposite  corner,  prepared  for  the  night's  watch. 

After  a  few  minutes  of  profound  silence,  Merivale,  pressing  his 
friend's  hand,  as  if  to  make  magnetic  communication  of  the  thoughts 
that  were  passing  through  his  own  brain,  commenced  the  grand  assault 
upon  the  outworks  of  the  human  citadel  named  Bunch,  standing  (or 
rather  sitting)  between  them  and  their  liberty. 

""  My  good  friend,"  said  Merivale,  in  a  pleasant,  chatty  voice, 
^'  this  is  devilish  cold  and  uncomfortable  ;  dark  and  dreary  too. 
Don't  you  tliink  it  would  be  possible  to  raise  a  little  something  to 
warm  the  inner  man  ?  A  mug  of  punch,  for  instance,  or  even  a  bottle 
of  brandy,  would  not  be  amiss,  and  we  should  be  very  happy  for  you 
to  join  u-s  in  a  little  indulgence  of  that  kind.  We  know  it  is  late, 
and  the  shops  are  probably  all  shut ;  therefore,  if  a  little  trifle  of 
fifty  dollars  or  so  should  he  necessary,  why,  of  course,  we  won't  ob- 
ject ;  only  go  and  get  us  something  to  eat  and  drink,  if  possible,  at 
all  hazards." 

"  Well  now,"  replied  Bunch,  "  you  must  think  I  am  mighty  green. 
Where  do  you  s'pose  I  was  born,  that  I  am  to  be  sold  arter  that  sort 
of  fashion?  To  set  your  minds  at  ease,  Pll  just  tell  you  that  nothing 
short  of  a  cool  five  hundred  would  begin  to  bring  you  out  of  tliis  scrape, 
and  I  reckon  there  aint  no  particular  danger  of  your  liaving  such  a 
thing  about  you." 

"  I  see  you  have  been  well  paid  for  your  infamous  job,"  retorted 
Merivale,  '^  and  I  suppose  you  have  managed  things  so  as  to  avoid 
tlu^  danger  of  discovery  ;  but  look  out !  The  devil  does  not  always 
stand  by  his  cliildren,  but  often  leaves  them  at  the  very  moment  when 


/ 

CAPTAIN    earnest's    FRIEND.  123 

they  have  the  most  need  of*  his  diabolical  assistance.  I'll  give  you 
one  hundred  dollars,  if  you  will  take  your  ugly  corporation  out  of  our 
presence  and  keep  it  invisible  to  us  for  the  space  of  ten  minutes  ; 
otherwise  we  must  remain  and  all  abide  the  consequences."  • 

"  It  won't  do,  gentlemen,"  replied  Bunch  doggedly,  "  so  there 
aint  no  use  o'  talkin  about  it  any  more.  You  writes  a  mighty  pretty 
hand  but  the  liquor  can't  come." 

"  Stop,"  said  Celio,  now  speaking  for  the  first  time  ;  "  I  have  but 
little  cash  about  me,  it  is  true,  but  it  may  be  we  can  arrange  this 
matter  satisfactorily.  You  are,  as  I  suspect,  either  a  thief  or  a 
police  officer  ;  not  that  it  makes  much  difference  which,  but  one  or 
the  other  I  am  sure  you  must  be.  No  body  else  could  have  been 
hired  to  perform  so  atrocious  an  act  as  that  of  which  you  have  been 
guilty.  Now  mark  me ;  a  man  of  high  standing  and  great  in- 
fluence, a  man  well  known,  and  with  innumerable  friends,  in 
every  class  of  society,  is  unjustly  detained  at  this  moment  in  the 
Tombs,  on  accusation  of  murder,  from  which  the  testimony  of  my 
friend  here  would  instantly  clear  him.  This  accusation  is  evidently 
the  result  of  a  deep-laid  and  damnable  conspiracy  against  the  honor 
and  life  of  my  friend.  The  only  purpose  of  our  arrest,  in  this  in- 
famous manner,  is  to  prevent  the  testimony  which  would  clear  my 
friend  of  every  imputation.  After  the  mischief  has  been  done,  we 
shall  be  set  free,  and  you  will  have  made  yourself,  for  five  hundred 
dollars,  the  murderer  of  an  innocent  man.  Now  if  you  will  permit 
us  to  depart,  I  will  pledge  you  our  honor  as  gentlemen,  that  never 
again  will  we  recall  the  incidents  of  this  night,  and  beside  will  give 
you  an  order  on  Captain  Earnest,  the  man  now  unjustly  held  in  cus- 
tody, for  five  hundred  dollars,  in  addition  to  the  one  hundred  which 
my  friend  just  now  offered  you,  which  order  will  be  instantly  cashed 
upon  presentation  to-morrow  morning.  If  you  refuse  this  offer,  I 
swear  to  you,  by  every  thing  which  men  hold  sacred,  that,  if  you  don't 
murder  us  while  you  have  us  in  your  power,  you  shall  be  brought  to 
justice  and  held  to  a  strict  account  for  the  whole  of  this  nefarious 
transaction." 

"  What's  that  you  say,"  said  Bunch,  suddenly  starting  up  and 
standing  erect  before  the  friends.  "  Didn't  you  say  something  about 
Captain  Earnest  ?" 

"Yes,  to  be  sure  I  did,"  replied  Celio  ;  "  he  is  the  man  who  has 
been  unjustly  accused  of  murder,  and  Mr.  Merivale  here,  my  friend, 
is  the  only  man  whose  testimony  can  at  once  and  for  ever  acquit  him. 
Do  you  take  my  offer?" 

"  Earnest !  Captain  Earnest,  accused  of  murder,"  repeated  Bunch, 
in  an  abstract  tone  and  manner,  as  if  rather  speaking  to  himself 
than  replying  to  the  other ;  "  why  Captain  Earnest  once  saved  my 
life.  Yes  I'll  do  it !"  and  then  suddenly  checking  himself,  as  the 
old  professional  spirit  of  self  came  over  him,  he  said  to  CeUo  :  "  I 
accept  your  offer.  Give  us  the  order  and  the  hundred  dollars,  and  I 
am  your  man.     Old  Pipson  may  be  damned,  for  what  I  care.     I'll 


124 


CELIO. 


not  only  do  right,  but  I'll  be  paid  for  it.     That's  what  I  call  doing 
the  business  up  brown." 

The  transaction  was  soon  concluded,  and  the  two  friends,  accom- 
panied by  Bunch,  left  the  house  and  proceeded  up  the  street.  Bunch 
inquired  of  them  where  they  would  be  taken,  and  advised,  as  it  was 
already  late,  and  nothing  could  be  done  till  morning,  that  they  should 
either  return  home  or  take  lodgings  at  a  hotel,  while  he  would  keep 
watch  during  the  night,  and,  at  the  first  sign  of  business  stirring  in 
the  Tombs,  would  call  them  and  all  would  be  on  hand  to  release  Cap- 
tain Earnest  at  the  earliest  possible  moment.  This  advice  appeared 
excellent ;  and  for  this  purpose  of  being  near  the  scene  of  action  and 
of  losing  no  time  in  the  morning,  Merivale  and  Cello  adjourned  to  the 
Carleton  House  and  went  to  bed. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

A  NIGHT  IN  THE  TOMBS THE  KEY  TO  THE  STAR  CHAMBER. 

Captain  Earnest,  to  whom  we  now  return — was  a  man,  as  our 
readers  will  by  this  time  have  learned,  not  easily  daunted  by  the  most 
extraordinary  or  unexpected  events,  and  to  whose  powerful  soul  dis- 
may never  came.  Yet  with  the  iron  nerve  that  sustained  him  under 
every  circumstance,  and  supported  too,  as  he  was  by  the  conscious- 
ness of  innocence,  and  the  almost  certainty  of  being  early  released 
from  his  annoying  position,  the  moral  atmosphere  that  floats  around 
and  interpenetrates  that  Gehenna  of  Christian  civilization,  the  felon's 
cell,  wrought  something  of  its  paralyzing  and  depressing  spell,  even 
upon  the  elastic  organization  of  him  who  now  sat  upon  the  little  truckle 
bed,  leaning  his  head  against  the  cold  stone  wall,  and  lost  in  wild 
distempered  fancies. 

Murder  !  Horrible,  doleful  word,  conjuring  up  like  the  syllable 
of  some  potent  enchantment,  dire  trains  of  moving  and  gibbering 
pliantoms  who  weave  demoniac  dances  through  the  brain.  Innocence 
itself,  and  courage,  and  all  high  resolve  quail  and  shrink  before  this 
terrible  word,  this  crushing  accusation  ;  and  for  a  time,  even  the 
proud  soul  of  Earnest  shrank  back  within  itself,  not  daring  to  en- 
counter face  to  face  the  danger  by  which  it  was  menaced.  Gradually, 
however,  these  foul  illusions  faded  av,  ay,  like  the  intense  and  palpa- 
ble darkness  by  which  he  felt  himself  surrounded.  The  s])iritual 
eye,  even  like  the  bodily,  seems  to  possess  the  wonderful  power  of 
contracting  or  dilating  its  pupil,  to  correspond  with  the  degree  of  light 
wherever  it  may  be  placed,  and  ultimately  to  scan,  with  its  intelligent 
beams,  every  nook  jitkI  crevice,  one  by  one,  of  the  dreariest  and 
darkest  dungeon.     Earnest,  whose  mind,  like  his  body,  acted  rapidly 


EXAMINATION    OF    EARNEST.  125 

decisively,  energetically,  in  every  direction,  arriving  suddenly  and 
intuitively  at  the  most  foregone  conclusions,  soon  regained  complete 
control  of  himself  and  smiled  as  the  phantasms  of  his  fears  fled  through 
the  grates  of  his  stony  cell.  He  even,  after  a  few  moments  spent  in 
that  inward  prayer  which  asks  not  the  kneeling  aid  of  the  mortal 
body,  laid  himself  upon  his  hard  prison  couch  and  slept  sweetly  and 
peacefully  the  sleep  that  innocence  alone  can  know. 

And  now  the  gray  morning  unfolded  its  heavy  wings,  dripping  with 
the  dark  waters  of  the  sea  of  night,  above  whose  waves  it  rose  dim 
and  welcome.  Soon  and  wide  grew  the  light  over  all  the  silent  city, 
which,  like  the  fabled  Memnon  began  to  murmur  beneath  its  beams. 
The  old  gray  Tombs,  fit  residence  of  gloomy  horrors,  now  felt  the 
stir  of  morning,  and  began  to  be  alive  through  all  its  dark  arcades 
and  stony  labyrinths.  The  sleepless  felon,  turning  all  night  upon 
his  pillowless  bed,  leaped  eagerly  upon  the  floor  that  he  might  gaze 
through  the  little  aperture  of  his  cell  once  more  upon  the  light  of  day. 
The  drunken  men  and  women,  who,  during  the  night,  gathered  from 
gutter  and  sidewalk,  had  been  thrust  to  sleep  away  the  fumes  of  their 
poisonous  debauch,  in  the  general  loafers'  hall,  began  stirring  like 
swine  waking  from  their  morning  nap.  The  sleepy  policemen,  one 
by  one,  made  their  appearance  and  yawned  their  morning  salutation 
to  the  thin  and  meagre  magistrate  who,  ^'spectacle  on  nose,''  seated 
himself  on  his  dread  tribunal,  and  the  morning  levee  of  loaferism  be- 
gan. Blear-eyed  vagabonds,  filthy,  drunken  women  still  reeling  from 
the  orgies  at  which  they  were  interrupted,  and  every  grade  of  hu- 
manity that  is  below  the  lowest  form  of  beast,  w^ere  there  congregated, 
in  foul  and  leprous  array,  waiting,  some  to  be  sent  where  civilization 
rewards  her  drunken  vagabonds  with  comfortable  subsistence,  while 
she  leaves  her  virtuous  slaves  and  Helots  to  starve  and  freeze  ;  others, 
who  were  so  fortunate  as  to  have  a  little  money  in  their  pockets  t^ 
bribe  their  way  from  magistrate  down  through  policemen  and  reporter, 
to  the  street ;  and  others,  who  belonged  to  the  "  respectable  classes," 
to  be  dismissed  with  a  genteel  and  polite  request  that  they  should 
do  so  no  more. 

This  scene  over,  the  more  important  and  serious  business  of  the 
day  commenced  in  the  general  judgment  room  up  stairs.  Here  some 
farther  show  of  magisterial  authority  appeared  in  the  arrangements 
and  dispositions  of  the  apartment.  The  prisoners  were  decorously 
separated  from  the  judge  by  a  wooden  wall,  and  a  palisade  of  wooden 
bars  ran  between  the  space  occupied  by  the  judge,  the  policemen  and 
their  victims,  and  that  thrown  open  to  the  general  public.  After  dis- 
posing of  a  large  number  of  ordinary  cases  in  the  ordinary  manner,  the 
magistrate  put  himself  into  an  attitude  of  extra  magisterial  dignity  and 
whispered  to  his  confidential  clerk. 

"  Yes,  yer  honor,"  replied  the  obsequious  clerk,  "  I  suppose  we 
can  proceed  with  that  now  ;  but  here's  a  note  from  Captain  Earnest, 
requesting  a  private  examination. 

"No!"  indignantly  returned  the  magistrate,  drawing  himself  up 


126  CELIO. 

to  his  "  full  hightj"  as  the  novelists  say ;  though  for  the  life  of  us 
we  never  could  exactly  ascertain  the  definition  of  that  most  romantic 
phrase  ;  and  looking  as  if  the  whole  body  of  the  ermine,  from  Lord 
Jeffrey's  to  the  present  time,  were  insulted  in  his  single  person,  and 
and  he  were  called  upon  to  resent  it  all.  He,  however,  took  the  note 
and  carelessly  opened  it.  But  no  sooner  had  the  enclosure  contained 
in  the  envelope  met  his  eye,  than  he  hastily  concealed  the  note  be- 
neath the  desk,  and  carelessly  crushing  it  in  his  hand,  put  it  acci- 
dentally into  his  pocket.  A  sinister  smile  passed  over  the  face  of 
the  obsequious  clerk,  which,  however,  had  entirely  disappeared  by 
the  time  his  superior  had  looked  up. 

"  By  the  way,"  remarked  the  judge,  in  a  bland  voice,  "  Mr.  Inkem, 
you  say  Captain  Earnest  avows  his  innocence,  and  merely  desires  a 
private  examination,  for  the  purpose  of  saving  his  reputation  from 
the  damage  it  would  unjustly  suffer  if  he  is  brought  into  public. 
Well,  well,  I  think  we  must  grant  it.  Captain  Earnest  I  have 
known  to  be  a  reputable  man,  and  can  scarcely  doubt  his  ability  to 
prove  his  innocence  of  this  dreadful,  and,  I  may  say,  rather  incon- 
venient charge." 

Dismissing  the  rest  of  the  culprits,  the  magistrate  proceeded  to 
the  Star  Chamber,  with  his  friend  Inkem,  and  directed  the  police 
officer  to  conduct  Captain  Earnest  before  him.  In  a  few  minutes 
Earnest  made  his  appearance,  looking  calm  and  confident,  and  took 
a  seat  without  embarrassment,  but  without  bravado,  avowing  his 
readiness  to  hear  the  evidence  upon  which  he  had  been  accused,  and  sta- 
ting that  he  expected  to  be  able  in  a  few  minutes  to  abundantly  clear 
himself  of  the  suspicions  that  existed  against  him. 

The  first  to  be  examined  were  several  policemen,  who  swore  posi- 
tively to  the  character  of  the  house,  where  the  bones  had  been  found, 
and  stated  that  farther  examinations  had  been  made,  which,  however, 
had  led  to  no  important  discoveries.  There  seemed  to  have  been 
built  into  the  back  part  of  the  house,  a  sort  of  pit,  which  was  appa- 
rently filled  with  quick-lime,  the  property  of  which  is  to  utterly  des- 
troy all  traces  of  flesh  subjected  to  its  action.  No  one  could  there- 
fore tell  how  many  murdered  bodies  had  been,  in  time  past,  thrown 
into  tliis  Golgotha  ;  while  the  imagination  of  the  policemen  did  not 
fail  to  invest  it  with  the  most  incredible  horrors. 

After  the  examination  of  the  policeman  in  chief  had  been  conclnd- 
ed,  the  magistrate  turned  to  Captain  Earnest,  and  informed  him 
that,  altliough  somewhat  against  the  rules,  in  preliminary  examina- 
tions, yet  he  was  at  liberty  to  cross-examine  the  witnesses.  He 
however  declined. 

The  girls  found  in  the  establishment,  who  had  all  been  arrested 
and  detained  as  witnesses,  were  now  called  ;  but  none  of  them  had 
been  in  the  house  more  than  a  few  weeks,  and  they  knew  nothing  of 
the  incidents  connected  with  the  present  event.  The  mistress  her- 
self was  then  called,  but  was  as  ignorant  of  the  circumstance  as  the 
others  ;  protested  the  entire  respectability  of  her  house,  and  mani- 


ACQUITTAL  OF  EARNEST.  127 

fested  considerable  first-rate  indignation  at  being  implicated  in  such 
a  dreadful  aflfair. 

The  examination  had  already  consumed  some  time,  and  the  morn- 
ing was  wearing  away  ;  yet  there  were  no  signs  of  Celio  and  Meri- 
vale — and  Earnest  began  to  turn  uneasily  toward  the  door. 

The  magistrate  now  observed  that  all  the  witnesses  had  been  heard, 
and  stated  that,  as  Captain  Earnest  had  admitted  the  homicide,  it 
remained  for  him  to  prove  distinctly  that  it  was  a  justifiable  one, 
and  in  positive  self-defence,  or  he  should  be  compelled  to  commit  him 
for  trial.  At  this  moment,  a  noise  outside,  in  which  loud  voices  in 
dispute  were  heard,  and  a  shuffling  of  feet  upon  the  floor,  as  if  some 
one  was  forcing  his  entrance  against  the  policemen  who  guarded  the 
door  of  the  Star  Chamber,  attracted  the  attention  of  its  inmates. 
In  an  instant  after,  Celio  and  Merivale,  rushed  into  the  apartment, 
followed  by  Bunch,  who  had  thus  faithfully  kept  his  promise,  aad 
brought  the  friends  to  t^  assistance  of  Earnest  at  the  critical  mo- 
ment. The  reason  of  tneir  appearing  so  late  was  that  the  policemen 
at  first  refused  to  admit  them,  telling  them  that  nothing  was  going 
6n,  and  that  the  magistrate  had  not  yet  arrived. 

Mr.  Merivale  was  now  sworn  and  examined.  He  gave  so  clear 
and  explicit  a  description  of  the  manner  in  which  the  young  profli- 
gate met  his  death,  and  maintained  his  statement  beneath  the  sharp- 
est examination  of  tne  magistrate  with  so  much  calmness  and  self- 
possession,  that  not  a  doubt  could  remain  of  its  complete  and  ex- 
act truth.  After  a  few  inquiries  as  to  the  name,  occupa- 
tion, position,  and  so  forth,  of  the  witness,  the  magistrate  fully  dis- 
charged Captain  Earnest  from  arrest,  and  added  an  expression  of  his 
regret  at  the  unjust  suspicions  to  which  he  had  been  subjected,  and 
his  sincere  congratulations  at  the  result. 

Mr.  Bunch  here  demanded  to  be  heard  ;  and  going  forward,  stated 
to  the  magistrate  that  he  had  a  confession  to  make,  implicating  a 
very  respectable  citizen  in  the  crime  of  conspiracy  to  take  the  life  of 
Captain  Earnest,  and  deprive  his  friend  Celio  and  Merivale,  of  their 
liberty.  Being  sworn  as  state's  evidence,  he  deposed  that  he  had 
been  bribed  by  one  Job  Pipson,  in  the  sum  of  five  hundred  dollars, 
to  carry  off  Celio  and  Merivale,  and  keep  them  in  close  custody,  at 
all  hazards,  for  a  certain  number  of  days.  He  also  confessed  to  being 
cognizant  of  Pipson's  plan  respecting  Nina,  and  informed  them  where 
she  was  that  morning  to  be,  adding,  that  if  they  would  save  her  they 
must  be  in  haste.  Without  waiting  for  farther  words,  and  taking 
Bunch  with  them  as  their  guide,  Earnest,  Merivale  and  Celio  preci- 
pitately left  the  office,  and  hurried  to  the  rescue  of  the  fair  Nina. 


128  CELIO. 

CHAPTER  XXII. 

VIRTUE    IS  STRENGTH.       THE    OLD    SERPENT. 

It  is  no  longer  fashionable  to  laugh  at  the  idea  of  premonitions, 
which  visit  the  minds  of  certain  persons  of  peculiar  organization, 
previous  to  many  important  events  which  they  are  ahout  being  called 
upon  to  pass  through.  Once  it  was  the  fashion  to  ridicule  every- 
thing but  what  could  be  seen,  felt,  or  in  some  manner  realized,  by 
the  animal  senses ;  but,  among  the  other  great  achievements  of  the 
present  age  has  been  the  almost  simultaneous  discovery,  by  all  think- 
ing and  reasoning  beings,  thaj:  man  is  endowed  with  a  spirit  as  well 
as  with  a  body,  and  that  the  organs  of  that  spirit  may  reasonably  be 
supposed  to  possess  the  power  of  communicatmg  with  external  events, 
as  well  as  those  of  the  body  ;  beside,  premonitions  have  from  time 
immemorial  been  known  to  be  true,  by  those  to  whom  they  came. 
Many  who  read  these  pages  will  themselves  be  able  to  recall  mo- 
ments of  their  lives,  in  which  their  being  was  overshadowed  by  some 
great  event,  and  the  consciousness  of  which  became  thenceforward  a 
part  of  their  very  existence.  Women  are  more  susceptible  to  these 
influences  than  men,  because  their  natures  are  now  electric,  and 
gather  from  the  surcharged  clouds  of  events  by  which  they  are  sur- 
rounded, prophetic  shudderings  of  the  storm  about  to  break  above 
their  heads.' 

As  Nina  closed  the  door  that  separated  her  from  the  noisy  scene 
she  had  just  left,  the  outward  world  seemed  to  fade  away  from  her 
very  memory,  and  her  soul  trembled  beneath  one  of  those  premoni- 
tions of  which  we  have  spoken.  Vague,  dim,  and  uncertain  in  its 
gloomy  vastness  seemed  the  horror  that  threatened  her  with  a  more 
real  feeling  of  positive  fear  and  dread  than  any  actual  danger  to 
which  she  had  ever  found  herself  exposed.  For  a  moment  a  visible 
tremor  passed  through  her  whole  frame,  and  she  stretched  forth  her 
hands  as  if  to  support  herself  from  falling.  But  this  passed  away, 
and  bowing  her  head  upon  her  bosom,  she  threw  herself  in  an  atti- 
tude of  abandonment  upon  the  bed,  and  gave  way  to  a  passionate  fit 
of  weeping.  She  knew  no  reason  for  this,  for  she  was  not  childish 
enougli  to  really  suffer  fear  or  loneliness,  or  the  appreliension  of 
danger,  merely  from  being  separated  for  a  single  night  from  her 
home,  and  the  protecting  presence  of  Mrs.  Carlton  ;  and  nothing  had 
occurred  during  the  evening  to  inspire  her  with  alarm.  Yet  still  she 
wept,  she  knew  not  why,  and  it  was  in  vain  that  for  some  moments 
she  attempted  to  struggle  against  the  paroxysm  and  to  regain  posses- 
sion of  herself.  At  length,  however,  the  tempest  exhausted  itself  in 
tears.  Gradually  her  sobs  became  weaker,  and  were  heard  at  longer 
intervals  ;  and  finally,  rising,  she  stamped  her  little  foot  with  a  ges- 


129 

ture  of  impatience  and  self-disdain,  and  drying  her  eyes,  proceeded 
calmly  to  perform  the  little  oiSces  preliminary  to  seeking  repose. 
She  had  partially  disrobed  her  beautiful  lihibs,  and,  as  was  her  cus- 
tom, knelt  at  the  foot  of  the  bed  to  say  her  nightly  prayer,  when  she 
was  startled  by  a  liglit  tapping  at  the  door.  For  a  moment  her  heart 
beat  quick ;  but  thinking  it  could  only  be  her  hostess,  who  had  for- 
gotten something  she  wished  to  say  to  her,  or  desired  to  give  her 
some  direction,  she  went  to  the  door,  and,  putting  her  lips  to  the  key- 
hole, inquired   ^' Who's  there?" 

''  It  is  me,  only  me,''  answered  some  one  in  a  whisper ;  and  not 
thinking  for  a  moment  that  it  could  be  any  other  than  her  hostess, 
Nina  opened  the  door,  and  in  glided  Mr.  Job  Pipson.  With  a  slight 
scream,  Nina  rushed  to  the  bed,  snatched  a  blanket,  and  enveloping 
herself  in  it  from  head  to  foot,  turned  upon  the  smooth-faced  and 
smiling  Pipson,  whom  she  had  not  yet  recognized,  and  demanded 
what  he  wanted  there. 

"Pray,  my  dear  madam,"  replied  Mr.  Pipson,  with  the  most  im- 
perturbable politeness,  and  with  a  voice  he  meant  should  be  most 
especially  insinuating,  "  Pray  be  cool,  and  do  not  allow  yourself  to 
be  put  out  in  the  least.  I  have  a  few  words  which  I  wish  to  say  to 
you,  and  as  I  have  not  succeeded  in  the  course  of  the  evening  in  ob- 
taining an  opportunity  of  conferring  with  you  alone,  I  have  taken  the 
liberty  of  making  the  present  occasion.  I  beg  your  pardon,  and  I  am 
sure  almost  you  will  grant  it,  when  you  hear  how  much  to  your  own 
advantage  is  what  I  have  to  propose." 

"  But  Mr.  Pipson,  good  Heavens  !  How  came  you  here  ?  Do  you 
not  know  !" — exclaimed  Nina,  pointing  to  the  door? 

"Yes,  beautiful  creature,"  replied  Pipson,  in  the  same  tone  and 
voice,  "  I  know  everything.  I  know  more  than  you  know,  and  I 
came  to  tell  you  many  things  of  which  you  have  not  the  slightest  sus^ 
picion.  Among  others,  I  beg  respectfully  to  inform  you  that  you  are 
the  most  beautiful  woman  in  the  world ;  and  that  I  venture  to  say, 
is  an  idea  that  never  entered  your  pretty  head  before.  Now  that  is 
but  the  beginning,  however,  of  what  I  have  to  say.     Will  you  listen  ?" 

"  Mr.  Pipson,  by  what  right  do  you  presume  to  be  thus  insolent  1 
Is  it  because  I  am  absent  from  my  friends  and  unprotected  ?  Or  have 
I  been  so  unfortunate  as  to  give  you  some  cause  for  thus  daring  to 
intrude  upon  my  privacy  ?  In  what  respect  have  I  been  wanting  in 
a  decorous  observance  of  every  propriety  of  life  ?  Or  is  it  that  you 
thus  basely  presume  upon  the  common  reputation  of  my  unfortunate 
profession — a  reputation  for  which  you  and  such  as  you  are  more  to 
blame  than  the  weak-minded  creatures  who  become  your  victims  ? 
But  if  you  have  chosen  to  rank  me  with  such,  let  me  say,  once  for 
aU,  that  you  are  fatally  mistaken.  I  can  scarcely  attempt  to  conceal 
from  myself  the  insulting,  the  outrageous  character  of  this  visit." 

''  Now  my  deaf  madam,"  replied  Pipson,  with  his  voice  and  man- 
ner even  more  seductive  and  polite  than  before,  "  I  began  by  desir- 
Mig  you,  in  the  most  persuasive  manner  I  could  assume,  not  to  put 


130  CELIO. 

yourself  in  a  passion ;  not  but  what  a  passion  becomes  you  charm- 
ingly, as  it  does  every  woman,  by  the  by — a  fact,  of  which  most  of 
them  I  believe,  are  conscious  enough.  But  at  present  it  is  out  of 
place.  I  wish  simply  to  have  some  quiet,  pleasant,  and  I  trust  mu- 
tually profitable  conversation  with  you.  I  hope  you  don't  find  me  so 
much  of  a  monster,  as  to  refuse  me  the  simple  courtesy  of  a  few 
minutes  conventional  dialogue.  I  am  at  least  as  Imndsome  as  the 
Russian  Baritone,  with  whom  you  are  forced  to  hold  such  loving  dia- 
logues upon  the  stage.'' 

Nina  shuddered  before  the  demoniac  self-possession  of  this  man. 
"  Go  on,"  said  she,  her  teeth  chattering  with  a  nameless  horror  :  "  I 
listen." 

"  Ah !  that  now  is  something  like  it,"  replied  Pipson,  "  though 
you  appear  to  be  cold.  Suppose  you  take  another  blanket  and  put  it 
over  your  shoulders.  True,  they  might  not  appear  so  fascinating  as 
at  present,  peeping  out  mischievously  from  their  dainty  night-robe ; 
but  I  presume  they  would  be  a  vast  deal  more  comfortable." 

"  What  is  it  you  have  to  say,  Mr.  Pipson  ?"  said  Nina,  in  a  hol- 
low whisper,  shrinking  as  far  from  him  as  to  the  very  wall  of  the  room. 

"  Oh !  there's  no  hurry,"  replied  Mr.  Pipson.  The  night  is 
young  yet,  and  we  have  plenty  of  time.  In  the  first  place  I  love 
you,  and,  as  a  corollary  to  that  same  proposition,  I  have  determined 
to  possess  you.  In  the  next  place — I  see  you  are  already  interested 
in  my  little  talk,  and  in  the  next  place,  then,  you  abhor  me  and  are 
determined  to  have  nothing  to  do  with  me.  Do  you  understand,  my 
pretty  charmer  7" 

"  Yes,  yes  ;  go  on,"  whispered  Nina,  almost  gasping  for  breath. 

"  Then,  thirdly,  and  to  conclude,  as  my  learned  friend  Dogberry 
says,"  resumed  Pipson,  his  eyes  sparkling  with  concealed  hate,  min- 
gled with  the  delight  of  anticipated  triumph  ;  "  you  love  my  especial 
and  particular  young  friend  Celio,  the  protege  of  my  other  especial 
friend.  Captain  Earnest,  whom,  by  God's  good  pleasure,  I  shall  soon 
have  the  happiness  to  see  hanged.  You  find  this  charming,  do  you 
not?" 

'^Man!"  almost  shrieked  the  now  utterly  aroused  and  terrified 
Nina;  "  what  would  you  ?     Is  this  madness?" 

"  Madness,  my  dear?  Why  bless  you,  no!  I  never  was  more 
completely  in  possession  of  my  faculties  in  the  wliole  course  of  my 
life  ;  although,  to  confess  the  truth,  the  sight  of  so  bewitching  a  crea- 
ture as  you,  carefully  packed  away  in  two  blankets,  is  enouoli  to  set 
one's  blood  running  a  little  wildly  through  his  veins,  even  though  he 
were  approaching  the  fifties.  Well,  my  charmer,  what  liave  you  to 
.?ay  ?  Not  a  word  to  your  devoted  lover,  who  chivalrously  and  ro- 
mantically seeks  you  out  to  declare  his  love  in  the  dark  hours  of 
midnight  ?" 

"  Mr.  Pipson,  I  implore,  I  beseech  you  to  end  thi%  horrible  scene. 
What  is  it  you  would  have?" 

"  Certainly,  my  dear,  we  are  coming  to  that  directly.     It  is  simply 


PIPS0>?'S   DECLARATION.  131 

this  ;  I  would  have  you  ;"  and  throwing  off  the  mask,  his  voice  as- 
sumed its  naturally  harsh  and  grating  tone.  "  Yes,  madam,  I  would 
have  you — nay  I  will  have  you — but  I  would  have  you  on  fair  and 
easy  terms.  I  hate  scenes,  except  those  pretty  ones  Avhich  you  term, 
in  your  own  language,  scenas^  and  which  you  sometimes  get  up  pro- 
fessionally, and  by  the  help  of  the  Russian  Baritone  aforesaid.  There- 
fore it  is  that  I  have  come  to  make  you  this  offer,  and  mark  me  well ; 
every  syllable  I  utter  is  as  true  as  the  four  Gospels  boiled  into  one ; 
and,  by  all  that  you  or  I,  or  angels  or  devils,  can  consider  holy  and 
sacred  I  swear  not  to  depart  one  jot  nor  tittle  from  what  I  am  now 
about  to  declare  to  you.  I  hold  in  my  hand  the  life  of  Captain  Ear- 
nest, and  a  word  of  mine  can  blast  the  reputation  and  ruin  forever 
and  past  redemption  the  prospects  of  your  lover,  Celio.  When  they 
are  gone,  your  protector,  too,  Mrs.  Carleton,  damn  her  !"  and  he 
ground  his  teeth  with  passion,  "  will  be  utterly  in  my  power.  In  a 
word,  with  one  gesture  of  my  arm,  I  can  sweep  them  all  to  swift  des- 
truction ;  and  I  will  do  it,  unless  the  pretty  Nina  here  lays  down  her 
honor  at  my  feet,  and  sweras  to  be  mine  and  mine  alone.  On  that 
condition  they  shall  all  be  saved.  Without  it  they  shall  all  be  damned, 
without  redemption.  Choose,  but  choose  not  hastily.  I  ask  not 
your  decision  to-night.  It  is  not  that  I  want.  I  came  to  inform  you 
of  all  you  should  know,  to  render  that  decision  wise  for  yourself,  and 
just  to  those  you  love.  Look  at  me  well.  See  if  in  my  face  you  read 
one  line  of  hesitation,  or  if  in  my  eye  you  can  discover  one  gleam  of 
pity  or  remorse.  Once — it  was  long,  bitter  years  ago — I  had  pity, 
I  had  remorse,  I  had  love,  I  had — no  matter  what — every  thing  I 
have  not  now  and  wish  not  to  have.  Enough !  Remember  my  words. 
Ponder  them  through  the  dark  hours  you  had  devoted  to  sleep. 
Weigh,  decide,  and  to-morrow  will  I  hear  your  answer.  Felice  notte^ 
mia  caraf^^  and  bowing  himself  nearly  to  the  ground,  he  laid  his 
h^nd  upon  his  heart  and  disappeared. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 


Dreams  and  Realities.     Explanation  and  Disappointment. 
The  Author  begins  to  get  his  boat  out  of  th^  fog. 

It  may  be  imagined  that  Nina  slept  little  that  night.  After  the 
door  closed  uponher  visitor,  she  remained  for  nearly  an  hour  motion- 
Jess.  So  crushing  and  overwhelming  was  the  tria^l  she  had  just  passed 
through,  that  it  left  her  no  more  even  the  power  to  suffer  or  resist. 
Abandoning  herself  to  a  paroxysm  of  tears,  she  lay  hoping  and  pray- 


132  CELIO. 

ing  for  death  to  come  and  end  her  horrible  sufferings.  She  reviewed 
her  past  life,  but  could  see  nothing  that  seemed  to  her  to  merit  such 
dreadful  punishment,  and  she  was  almost  tempted  to  accuse  God  of 
injustice.  Ere  the  dreadful  thought,  however,  was  fairly  formed, 
the  last  gleam  of  reason  left  her  brain,  and  she  lay  for  a  long  time  in 
a  sort  of  half  unconscious  trance,  in  which  the  recollection  and  for- 
gotten reminiscences  of  her  childhood  and  infancy  came  and  went 
through  the  dim  and  misty  chambers  of  memory  like  a  train  of  smi- 
ling phantoms,  who  ever  disappeared  as  she  was  about  to  embrace 
them.  One  vision,  sweeter  and  more  beautiful  than  all  the  rest, 
lingered  lovingly  near  her,  ever  looking  steadily  and  tenderly  into 
her  eyes,  sometimes  stretching  forth  its  arms  as  if  it  would  clasp  her 
to  its  bosom.  This,  although  she  remembered  not  the  face  or  aspect 
of  that  dear  one,  she  knew  was  the  spirit  of  her  mother,  come  down 
from  Heaven  in  this  dark  hour  of  her  daughter's  affliction,  to  look  pity- 
ingly upon  her  and  to  fill  her  soul  with  a  trusting  hope  that  they 
should  once  more  meet,  after  all  the  fiery  ordeals  and  bitter  trials  of 
earth,  when  her  racked  frame  and  tortured  heart  and  madly  beating 
brain  slept  peacefully  beneath  the  flowery  turf.  Yes,  in  that  dark 
and  dreadful  hour,  when  the  agony  of  her  whole  life  seemed  concentra- 
ted in  every  breath  her  panting  bosom  drew,  came  to  the  soul  of  the 
girl,  for  the  first  time  in  her  life,  the  knowledge  of  her  Mother  and 
the  sense  of  that  boundless  lovp  which  ever  watched  over  her,  like 
her  guardian  angel  stooping  to  bless  her  from  the  azure  Heaven. 

Gradually,  as  the  night  faded  and  morning  woke,  the  visions  one 
by  one  departed,  and  the  poor  girl  felt  her  earthly  faculties  reawaken 
to  all  the  dread  and  real  horrors  by  which  she  was  surrounded.  Alone 
and  far  away  from  sympathy,  friends,  or  the  faintest  hope  of  timely 
assistance,  she  saw  herself  wholly  in  the  power  of  a  being  who 
seemed,  had  he  ever  been  human,  to  have  anticipated  his  existence  in 
in  the  other  world,  and  already  assumed  the  form  of  demon.  Helpless 
and  hopeless,  still  the  young  girl  turned  instinctively  to  God,  and 
felt  not,  even  in  her  dire  extremity,  that  she  was  all  forsaken.  The 
still  small  voice  of  hope  whispered  of  release  and  triumph.  Com- 
posing herself  as  well  as  she  was  able,  she  arose  and  put  on  her  dress, 
and,  sitting  down  by  the  window,  that  looked  out  upon  the  dreary  su- 
berbs,  awaited  the  course  of  events. 

Her  first  impulse  had  been  to  make  her  escape  from  the  house,  and 
find  her  way,  as  best  she  might,  to  Mrs.  Carleton's ;  but,  she  found 
that  her  door  was  firmly  locked,  and  the  window  offered  no  prospect 
of  escape.  Beside,  it  did  not  seem  to  her  that  it  was  the  best  way 
now  to  shrink.  Something  told  her  that  courage  and  presence  of 
mind  would  preserve  her.  And  so  she  grew  serene  and  calm  and 
and  patient. 

She  had  not  long  to  wait.  In  a  few  moments  the  sound  of  footsteps 
on  the  stairs  made  her  heaat  beat  fast  and  wild  ;  but,  by  a  super- 
human effort,  she  choked  down  the  sobs  that  rose  in  her  throat,  and 
it  was  with  a  firm  and  unfaltering  aspect,  that  she  saw  the  door  open 
and  tlie  hateful  face  of  Pi[)son  appear. 


PIPSON    DISCLOSES    HIS    PLANS.  133 

"  Good  morning,  my  charmer,"  said  Mr.  Pipson,  again  bowing 
low.  "I  hope  you  slept  well.  It  is  not  always  the  case  that  one 
rests  comfortably,  for  the  first  time,  in  a  strange  bed  ;  but  I  am  sure 
you  are  quite  superior  to  such  prejudices.  Beside,  you  are  looking 
divinely  fresh  and  beautiful  this  morning.  You  must  have  had  pleasant 
dreams.  Would  that  I  could  have  the  honor  of  figuring  in  your  mid- 
night visions." 

"  Wretch,"  muttered  Nina,  through  her  set  teeth. 

"  By  the  way,  it  is  very  remarkable,''  observed  Pipson,  "how 
prettily,  even  a  naughty  word  sounds  from  a  pretty  mouth.  Now.  I 
don't  imagine  I  could  hear  the  term  "  wretch''  applied  to  me  by  any 
ordinary  male  pair  of  lips,  without  feeling  considerably  indignant 
thereat ;  but  in  your  case,  I  find  it  really  pleasant." 

"  Pray,  go  on,  Mr.  Pipson.  Will  you  tell  me  why  you  use  me  thus  ? 
What  have  I  ever  done  to  you,  or  to  any  human  being,  to  deserve 
such  dreadful  punishment  as  this  ?  If  there  is  one  spark  of  manhood 
or  honor  yet  left  in  your  heart,  I  implore  you  to  pause  before  you 
trample  the  life  out  of  a  poor,  unoffending  and  helpless  girl,  to  whom 
death  is  terrible,  but  who  still  will  sooner  die  than  submit  to  the 
faintest  thought  of  dishonor.  You  have  told  me  a  dreadful  tale,  im- 
plicating those  I  love ;  but  I  have  thought  it  calmly  over,  and  am 
sure  it  cannot  be  true.  Your  only  purpose  was  to  frighten  me  into 
compliance  with  some  dreadful  wish.     It  cannot  be  true." 

' '  Say  you  so  ?  But,  by  the  God  that  made  us,  it  is  true,  and  nothing 
less,"  exclaimed  Pipson  fiercely,  and  with  a  gesture  of  savage  joy  and 
triumph.  "I'll  tell  you  in  ten  words,  so  that  you  yourself,  my  pretty 
one,  shall  see  it  is  not  so  unreasonable  as  you  choose  to  imagine. 
You  must  know,  that  some  time  ago,  in  a  midnight  orgy,  at  which  your 
Cello's  friend  was  present,  he  had  misfortune  to  slay  a  man  ;  purely, 
I  grant  you,  in  self  defence,  for  I  myself  was  present  and  saw  the 
whole  transaction.  Many  others  were  by,  but  they  have  all  been 
carefully  removed  beyond  the  reach  of  the  law's  longest  claw.  The 
ladies  who  were  present  are  no  longer  in  the  city  ;  a  blackleg  who  also 
formed  one  of  the  company,  dares  not  open  his  lips  only  as  I  bid  him ; 
and  I  myself,  if  summoned  by  Earnest,  he  well  knows,  will  not  hesi- 
tate to  accuse  him  falsely,  and  fasten  the  guilt  irrevocably  upon  him. 
One  alone  remained,  who  also  was  present,  who  could  neither  be 
bought  nor  uatimidated.  Him,  and  your  lover  Celio,  I  have  safely  in 
custody.  No  human  being  but  myself  and  my  faithful  minion  to 
whom  the  task  was  intrusted,  knows  where  they  are  or  can  by  any 
means  discover.  Earnest  has  confessed  the  homicide,  but  proclaimed 
his  power  to  establish  it  as  an  act  purely  of  self  defence,  justifiable 
by  the  laws  of  God  and  man ;  and  so  it  was,"  continued  he,  with  a 
diabolical  sneer  wrinkling  his  lip — "  but  I  rather  think  he  will  have 
more  diflficulty  than  he  imagines  in  producing  his  proof !  Now  my 
dear,  you  see  that  the  fate  of  this  man  is  in  my  hands.  You  alone 
can  save  him.  Be  mine  and  I  give  the  wretch  liis  life.  Spurn  me, 
and  this  hand  fastens  the  hempen  noose  about  his  neck. 


134  CELIO. 

"  Monster  !  is  this  possible  1"  at  length  exclaimed  Nina,  after  some 
moment's  silence. 

"  Yes,  and  a  gi-eat  deal  more  too,  my  pretty  one.  I  forgot  all 
about  your  particular  friend,  Mrs.  Carleton — whom  may  the  devil 
aftd  Job  Pipson  confound  !  She  is  one  of  the  most  conspicuous 
columns  in  the  magnificent  temple  of  ruin  upon  whose  altar  I  am 
about  to  offer  my  hecatomb  of  victims.  For  her,  poverty,  want,  hunger, 
disgrace,  and  dishonor  await  to  dog  her  steps  in  ghastly  procession 
through  the  world.  After  the  annihilation  of  all  the  rest,  including 
your  own  pretty  self,  I  consecrate  my  future  life  into  one  living  con- 
centrated hate,  that  shall  pursue  her,  like  an  all-seeing  eye,  through 
her  existence,  and  at  length  trample  upon  her  dishonored  grave.  In 
me,  revenge  and  hate  have  become  sublime.  They  inspire  me  like  a 
God.  All  the  aspirations  of  my  ambitious  nature,  all  the  glorious 
dreams  of  youth,  all  the  disappointed  frivolities  that  once  formed  my 
world  of  golden  visions,  what  were  they  1  Even  had  fruition  attended 
them  all,  what  were  they  to  be  compared  to  the  gigantic,  the  mag- 
nificent and  Godlike  hate  which  now  inspires  me  !  By  Heaven  !  beau- 
tiful witch,  I  had  almost  rather  that  you  should  refuse,  and  doom 
you  all  to  that  destruction  !  Nay,  I  take  back  my  promise.  I  will 
not  save  a  hair  of  one  of  their  heads.  You,  too,  I  will  possess,  and 
all  shall  fall  into  the  same  wide  and  yawning  grave.  I  am  growing 
mad  with  my  delight.  I  can  no  longer  refrain  from  quaffing  the 
bright  cup  which  brims  and  sparkles  within  my  reach.  Beautiful 
devil,  thine  eyes  attract  me  sweetly  to  my  revenge  !  I  feed,  in  rapt 
anticipation,  upon  the  roses  of  thy  young  cheek.  Already  thy  loath- 
ing form  writhes  in  my  fierce  embrace.  Already  thy  shrieks  and 
curses  rise  like  incense  to  my  maddened  senses.  Prepare,  I  come  ! 
It  as  my  hour!"  And  with  eyes  glaring  and  lips  covered  with  the 
foam  of  madness,  he  sprang  toward  Nina.  Frantically  she  avoided 
him  and  sought  to  make  her  escape  by  the  door  ;  but,  catching  her 
by  the  arm,  he  drew  her  fiercely  back  ;  with  a  wild  scream  she  escaped 
his  grasp,  and  fled  from  corner  to  corner  of  the  room,  the  fiend  in  hot 
pursuit.  Oh  !  what  a  chase  of  life  and  death,  and  all  that  makes  life 
sweet  and  death  horrible,  was  there  I  Not  long  could  it  have  lasted ; 
for  second  by  second,  the  life-strength  ebbed  from  the  limbs  of  the 
poor  victim  ;  and,  palpitating  and  panting  in  the  last  agony  of  des- 
pair, she  was  about  to  fall  helpless  at  the  feet  of  her  tormentor,  when 
a  noise  of  rushing  feet  in  the  passage  and  upon  the  stairway,  preceded 
the  violent  opening  of  the  door  ;  and  Pipson,  turning  savagely  to  see 
wbo  had  dared  thus  to  interrupt  him  in  his  hour  of  triumph,  found 
himself  face  to  face  with  Captain  Earnest.  Behind  liini  stood  Celio 
and  Merivale  and  Mr.  Bunch.  In  an  instant  after,  Mrs.  Carleton 
herself  ran  joyously  up  stairs  and  clasped  Nina  in  her  arms. 

The  poor  girl,  however,  was  by  this  time  insensible  even  of  her  res- 
cue, and  lay  upon  the  bosom  of  her  friend,  pale  and  cold  as  marble.  It 
was  long  before  sho  recovered  the  power  of  recognizing  her  friends, 
or  being  made  aware  of  the  critical  escape  she  had  made.     Tenderly . 


REFLECTIONS.  135 

as  a  mother  can-ies  her  child,  Mrs.  Carlton  bore  her  burden  down 
the  stairs,  to  another  room,  and  watched  her  with  anxious  sohcitude. 
As  for  Mr.  Pipson  and  the  party  by  whom  he  had  been  interrupted, 
.a  few  words,  will  suflBce.  Merivale  requested,  as  a  particular  favor 
of  Captain  Earnest,  that  he  should  be  permitted  to  dispose  of  Mr. 
Pipson  in  his  own  fashion.  This  was  readily  granted,  and  Merivale 
departed  with  his  prisoner,  now  meek  and  obedient  as  a  child,  promis- 
ing to  render  a  good  account  of  him  in  a  day  or  two. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 


Adelaide    and    solitude — More    judicious    reflections. — 
A  Declaration. 

We  must  now  go  back  to  Mrs.  Carlton,  who,  delighted  by  the  suc- 
cess her  fair  protege  had  met  upon  the  stage,  heard  with  pleasure  of 
her  acceptance  of  the  invitation  to  visit  her  acquaintance  of  the  Green 
Room ;  and,  after  impressing  it  upon  her  not  to  stay  too  late,  bade 
her  good  bye  affectionately,  and  went  to  her  room  to  spend  the  evening 
in  quiet  reading  and  contemplation.  She  waited  patiently  till  ten 
o'clock,  when,  with  a  most  parental  solicitude,  she  began  to  be  restless 
and  uneasy,  frequently  going  to  the  window  to  see  if  any  one  was 
coming,  and  then  checking  herself  for  being  so  uneasy,  as  the  distance 
to  which  Nina  had  gone  was  so  great  that  even  if  the  party  should 
not  be  unusually  late,  she  had  no  fair  right  to  expect  her  return  at 
least  before  midnight. 

Two  more  hours,  therefore,  of  thought,  memory,  anticipation,  what- 
ever genius  dark  or  pleasant  came  to  minister  to  her  lonely  reverie. 

Those  are  precious  hours  in  which  the  present  with  its  world  of 
anxieties  and  responsibitities  for  a  definite  time  puts  off,  the  soul  re- 
laxes its  vigils,  and  reclining  as  it  were  upon  the  past,  reviews  the 
the  long  procession  of  disappointed  hopes  and  baffled  aspirations  which 
gather  under  the  potent  wand  of  the  enchanter.  Memory.  Every 
moment  of  such  an  hour  is  fraught  with  its  beautiful  and  invigorating 
lesson  to  the  heart.  One  of  the  greatest  evils,  as  well  as  the  greatest 
dangers  of  the  present  time,  is  that  we  all  rush  onward  so  furiously 
as  to  lose  entirely  the  benefit  of  these. hours  of  calm  and  instructive 
retrospection.  To  the  men  and  women  of  the  present  day  the  world 
ifi  a  wild  and  stormy  ocean,  over  whose  boiling  surges  we  are  driven 
as  if  by  an  irresistible  wind.  No  time  to  pause,  to  look  back,  to 
compare  the  past  with  the  present,  to  contrast  our  anticipations  with 


186  CELIO. 

their  more  sober  realities  ;  and  thus  to  draw  lessons  of  wisdom  from 
experience,  to  develope  the  judgment  and  refine  the  heart. 

Adelaide  had  not  been  long  engaged  in  this  pensive  yet  pleasing 
reverie,  when  she  was  interrupted  by  a  sharp  quick  ring  of  the  bellj^ 
which  she  did  not  for  a  moment  mistake  for  the  tones  of  acquaintance- 
ship. 

The  reader  may  smile  at  our  speaking  of  the  tone  of  the  bell ;  but 
every  bell  has  almost  as  many  difierent  tones  as  the  human  voice  itself. 
America's  most  original  poet  has  finely  seized  upon  and  illustrated 
this  truth,  in  his  remarkable  poem  of  "  The  Bells."  The  clangor 
of  the  midnight  fire-bell,  sending  out  its  cries  of  alarm  to  the  startled 
city ;  the  same  bell  tolling  sadly  the  muffled  story  of  the  dead,  or 
pulsating  calmly  hour  by -hour  the  monotonous  flight  of  time,  possesses 
tones  as  distinct  and  strongly  marked,  as  easily  recognized  by  the 
practiced  ear,  as  the  voice  of  a  well  known  friend  in  its  anger,  its 
sorrow,  its  love,  its  despair.  But  the  house-bell,  of  all  others,  tells 
the  most  diverse  stories  to  the  watching  listener.  It  is  not  necessary 
to  see  the  face,  to  hear  the  voice  or  the  well  kno\vn  footstep,  to  know 
that  the  beloved  one  is  returning.  The  first  touch  of  the  bell  sends 
a  corresponding  tingle  thrilling  through  the  veins,  even  more  vividly 
than  the  grasp  and  pressure  of  hands  and  lips.  But  no  bright  tone, 
no  sweet  emotion  of  anticipated  gladness,  came  upon  the  vibration  of 
the  bell  that  roused  Mrs.  Carlton  from  her  dreamy  reverie.  It  fell 
cold  and  dead  upon  the  heart  like  any  other  ordinary  noise,  startling 
for  a  moment  the  dreamer  from  her  dreams  and  then  scarcely  thought 
of  or  remembered  more.  In  a  moment  after,  however,  a  servant  enter- 
ed, bearing  a  letter  which  he  delivered  to  the  lady,  observing  that  the 
bearer  had  said  that  it  did  not  require  an  answer,  and  departed.  The 
incident  was  scarcely  sufficient  to  arouse  Adelaide  completely  from 
her  absorbing  reflections,  and  she  was  resettling  herself  in  her  lux- 
urious arm-chair,  when  the  superscription  of  the  letter  accidentally 
cauglit  her  eye,  and  she  started  as  if  something  well  known  and  hated 
had  passed  before  her.  She  was  now  evidently  and  thoroughly  aroused ; 
and,  taking  up  the  letter,  she  opened  it  with  trembling  fingers  and 
began  eagerly  to  read.  As  we  abhor  mysteries  of  every  description, 
and  devoutly  trust  that  our  parish  of  readers  share  with  us  in  this 
religious  sentiment,  we  shall  proceed  to  look  over  the  lady's  shoulder 
while  she  reads, 

"  Adelaide  : 

''  As  the  complicated  web  I  have  for  years  been  spinning  is  now 
nearly  finished,  and  my  life  moves  rapidly  to  its  culmination,  I  have 
sought,  what  I  seldom  seek,  solitude,  memory  and  my  own  thoughts. 
To  you,  the  only  being  I  have  ever  loved  on  earth,  whom  I  still  love, 
and  yet  fiercely  hate,  the  only  being  by  whose  influence  my  character 
could  have  been  rescued  from'  the  downward  course  along  which  itfij 
wild  and  ungovernable  passions  have  fiercely  dragged  it,  I  now  will 
relate  the  history  of  my  life-struggle.  You  cannot  choose  but  read 
and  understand,  for  around  you  all  its  interest  centres  ;  and  no  woman, 


PIPSON's    letter    to    MRS.    CARLETON.  137 

not  even  Adelaide  Carlton,  is  insenaible  to  the  flattery  of  a  life  which 
immolates  itself,  both  for  this  world  and  the  next,  for  her  unreturned 
love. 

Naturally,  Adelaide,  you  and  I  were  much  alike.  True,  you  posses- 
sed many  rich  and  ennobling  qualities  which  I  lacked  ;  but  there  was 
something  in  the  depth  of  our  self-criticism,  in  the  unconquerable  in- 
dependence and  pride  with  which  we  almost  sought  difl5culties  and 
dangers,  but  to  prove  to  ourselves  our  power  of  resisting  or  overcoming 
them,  that  made  us,  to  a  certain  point,  congenial  spirits.  There  we 
separated  ;  you  to  devote  yourself,  with  a  martyrdom  which  I  still 
believe  sprang  rather  from  pride  than  benevolence,  to  the  well-being 
of  others  ;  while  I,  absorbed  in  the  intensity  of  my  appetites  and  the 
gratification  of  my  indomitable  selfishness,  commenced  a  career 
directly  opposite  to  your  own.  For  others  you  have  sacrificed  yourself 
— I  have  sacrificed  others  to  myself.  You  have  been  the  dupe  of  your 
own  false  idea  of  honor  and  feminine  glory,  I  have  been  the  dupe  of 
nothing,  but  have  made  all  others  my  dupes  ;  yet  we  both  arrive,  Ade- 
laide, at  very  much  the  same  conclusion — bitterness  and  ashes.  Your 
magnanimity  of  character,  your  surpassing  self-devotion,  the  martyr- 
dom of  your  whole  life  ;  what  have  they  gained  you  ?  Even  what 
all  my  cautious  and  selfish  plans,  my  iron  perseverance,  my  uncon- 
querable will,  have  gained  for  me — disappointment  and  disgust. 

Yet  still,  through  all  my  bitter  life,  from  the  hour  when  you  and  I 
were  children  and  lifelong  playmates,  who  together  had  chased  the  but- 
terflies through  many  a  summer  bower,  and  wove  the  wild  flowers  in  gar- 
lands to  crown  our  innocent  brows,  have  I  ever  fondly  loved  and  truly 
worshipped  you  and  you  alone.  You  might  have  been  the  angel 
blessing  of  my  life.  Had  you  loved  me,  we  had  both  been  glorified 
beyond  the  common  capacity  of  human  destiny  ;  but,  as  it  was,  my 
life  has  been  a  blank — no,  not  a  blank — would  to  God  it  were,  for 
sometimes,  even  yet,  the  fiend  of  remorse  comes  to  torture  me,  when 
I  would  find  slumber  and  forget  life. 

I  do  not  write  these  things  with  the  hope,  nor  even  with  the 
wish,  that  they  should  produce  any  efiect  upon  you.  A  few  weeks 
since,  while  you  wept  over  the  coffin  of  that  husband  you  never 
loved,  you  spurned  with  proud  disdain  the  lover  who  writhed  at 
your  feet  and  begged  for  one  look  of  even  human  pity  from  your 
eyes  for  all  his  sufferings.  You  denied  him  that,  and  in  that  hour  a 
new  demon  of  cruelty  and  revenge  passed  into  his  soul,  and  took  pos- 
session of  it  as  a  temple.  No  power  on  earth  now,  Adelaide,  not  even 
your  love,  were  that  possible,  could  now  turn  aside  the  fate-like  dee- 
tiny  that  hangs  around  and  encompasses  us  all. 

Long  have  I  watched  your  actions  and  revolved  your  character, 
but  have  not  been  able  to  qijite  satisfy  myself  whether  or  not  you 
have  ever  loved.  I  trust  you  have,  so  that  my  revenge  will  thus  be 
greater  and  more  worthy  of  my  pride.  If  you  love  aught  human, 
other  than  your  protege  the  Italian,  it  is  Celio.  I  would  I  could 
watch  your  face,  Adelaide,  as  you  pe-ruse  that  name,  then  could  I  be 


138  CELIO. 

satisfied.  Yes,  I  think  you  do  love  Celio;  and  thinking  so,  I  feel  a 
new  thrill  of  joy  in  describing  to  you  the  destruction  in  which  he  is 
involved.  It  is  an  intricate  piece  of  work,  of  which  I  feel  proud  and 
satisfied,  but  you  shall  hear. 

CeUo  is  inextricably  blended  in  the  afi'air  of  Captain  Earnest. 
Their  journal  has  been  principally  managed  by  Celio,  and  he  must 
have  been  privy  to  all  the  leading  transactions  of  Earnest,  both  in 
and  out  of  -the  office.  These  transactions,  which  I  have  spent  many 
weeks  in  investigating  and  unraveling,  are  of  a  startling  and  unfamous 
character  ;  or,  if  not  so,  can  easily  be  made  to  appear  so.  Celio 
really,  perhaps,  may  not  be  implicated  in  them  all,  but  it  can  be  proved 
that  he  is,  and  it  will  be.  Were  Earnest  himself  called  upon,  he 
might  undoubtedly  exculpate  his  young  friend  of  participation  in  his 
strange  and  incredible  career.  But  that  career  now  rapidly  ap- 
proaches its  fatal  end.  Within  a  few  days,  I  hope  to  have  the  plea- 
sure of  seeing  Captain  Earnest — though  that  is  not  his  name — com- 
mitted to  the  gallows.  He  is  now  under  arrest  on  a  charge  of  murder, 
which  he  has  partly  confessed,  and  which  will  be  irrevocably  fastened 
upon  him.  When  he  is  gone,  Celio  will  have  lost  his  only  powerful 
friend  and  protector,  and  cannot  oppose  himself  to  the  tide  of  accusa- 
tions and  testimony  which  will  be  set  in  motion  to  sweep  him  away. 

Nina,  your  beautiful  protege,  can  to-morrow  tell  you  a  tale  of  horror 
which  you  have  no  power  to  imagine  or  conceive.  To  her  I  leave  it, 
choosing  that  you  should  hear  it  from  her  own  dishonored  lips,  that  it 
may  thus  search  deeper  your  heart  for  another  pang. 

In  a  word,  destruction  comes  upon  you  all.  Celio,  and  a  stranger 
named  Merivale^  whom  I  have  ascertained  to  be  a  brother  of  Earnest, 
are  now  in  close  and  loathsome  confinement,  in  charge  of  a  faithful 
creature  of  my  own.  Whether  they  will  ever  escape  depends  entirely 
upon  myself.  Probably  they  will  not.  Probably  I  shall  so  far  re- 
lax the  usual  parsimony  of  my  habits,  as  to  pay  the  board  of  those 
gentlemen  in  their  present  agreeable  quarters.  Ha  !  ha !  ha !  A 
liberal  idea,  truly ! 

Perhaps  3^ou  believe  that  yourself  are  to  escape ;  and  so  well  do  I 
know  you  that  I  think  this  would  be  an  additional  torture  to  your 
noble  mind  ;  but  I  cannot  afford  the  luxury  of  this  torture — I  cannot 
bear  that  you  should  escape  ;  therefore  listen  to  y©ur  horoscope,  and 
remember  well.  Oh  beautiful  being,  whom  it  would  have  been  my 
life's  delight  to  cherish  and  surround  with  all  that  can  embellish  or 
illuminate  this  dark  life — remember  that  your  future  destiny  is  marked 
out  by  myself,  and  is  the  result  of  my  own  deliberate  will. 

I  hold  in  ray  hands  mortgages  upon  all  your  late  husband's  property, 
for  moneys  I  from  time  to  time  advanced  him  in  the  regular  course  of 
business.  If  his  speculations  sometimes  failed,  if  his  judgment  was 
at  fault,  or  if  he  listened  to  bad  advice  and  thus  became  bankrupt, 
surely  it  was  no  fault  of  mine.  You  may  suspect  tliat  I  was  at  the 
bottom  of  it  all — I  cannot  help  that.  Indeed  it  would  please  me  for 
you  to  do  so.      At  any  rate,  he  died  a  beggar,  leaving  his  wife,  th« 


139 

beautiful  Adelaide,  a  pauper.  For  a  time  you  were  rescued  by  the 
interference  of  Earnest,  brought  about,  as  I  have  since  learned, 
through  the  solicitations  of  that  young  viper,  Celio.  But  now  Earnest 
is  out  of  the  way.  Dead  men,  and  especially  men  who  have  been 
hung,  do  not  come  back  to  invalidate  mortgages  nor  to  scrutinize 
claims.  I  am  once  more  in  possession  of  all  my  power  over  you.  I 
will  pursue  you  from  hour  to  hour  and  from  day  to  day.  Homeless 
and  houseless,  you  shall  become  a  beggar  for  work  to  procure  food  ; 
and  when  at  last,  by  long  suffering  and  much  prayer  to  the  purse- 
proud  apes  of  fashion  whom  you  now  despise,  you  have  obtained 
employment,  I  will  blast  your  character  and  snatch  the  hungry  morsel 
from  your  very  lips. 

Then,  after  all  has  failed,  you  will  seek  dishonor  as  a  relief  from 
want.  Nay,  do  not"  shudder  nor  curl  your  lip  in  indignation  !  You 
know  not  how  powerful  a  logician  is  hunger.  Stronger  than  virtue, 
than  pride,  than  a  woman's  estimation  of  her  own  honor,  is  hunger ; 
and  beneath  its  resistless  arguments  shall  the  proud  and  haughty  Ade- 
laide Carlton  prostrate  herself  for  money,  sell  her  endearments  and  her 
caresses  to  whomsoever  will  give  her  the  wherewithal  to  prolong  her 
wretched  and  loathsome  existance.  Thus  shall  you  drag  out  the 
years,  thus  will  I,  like  a  fury,  pursue  your  steps  ;  and  when  at  last, 
long  sought  and  welcome  death  comes  to  relieve  you,  I  will  be  there 
to  lash  your  soul  into  eternity.  Adelaide,  I  know  I  am  mad.  My 
intellect  is  no  longer  master  of  itself,  and  I  am  truly  and  literally  a 
maniac ;  therefore  it  is  that  all  these  dreadful  things  cannot  well  be 
helped  nor  prevented,  even  did  I  wish  it.  All  must  come  and  pass 
away,  even  as  it  is  here  written. 

"Farewell!  PIPSON." 

The  perusal  of  this  letter  raised  a  storm  of  contending  emotions 
in  the  bosom  of  Mrs.  Carlton,  which  deprived  her  of  strength  and  left 
her  almost  powerless  even  to  think.  After  a  few  moments,  however, 
she  gradually  recovered  possession  of  her  faculties,  and  her  memory 
reverted  with  intense  force  to  Nina  and  the  perilous  situation  in  which 
she  was  placed. — -It  was  now  past  eleven,  and  in  a  few  moments,  at 
fiarthest,  Nina  ought  to  return  home.  She  determined  therefore  to 
wait  in  patience,  trusting  that  the  letter  of  Pipson  was  a  mere  artifice 
of  that  wretched  man  to  torture  her,  or  that  at  best  he  had  overrated 
his  own  power  of  mischief,  and  exaggerated  the  extent  of  the  danger 
in  which  her  dearly  loved  protege  was  placed.  As  for  Celio,  she 
saw  that  it  was  hatred  alone  that  dictated  the  expressions  in  Pipson's 
letter,  and  that  he  in  reality  possessed  no  knowledge  which  would 
give  him  a  legitimate  power  over  him.  -  She  even  doubted  that  he  was 
in  confinement ;  and  as  she  reasoned  with  her  apprehensions,  one  by 
one,  she  almost  caused  them  to  disappear,  and  at  length  persuaded 
herself  into  the  momentary  anticipation  of  Nina's  return  ;  trusting, 
meanwhile,  that  the  morning  would  bring  back  Celio  and  dissipate 
all  the  horrid  illusions  called  up  by  that  dreadful  letter. 

But  in  Tain  she  waited.     Midnight  came  and  went,  and  yet  no  sound 


140  CELIO. 

broke  the  stillness  of  the  slumbering  city,  and  terror  began  anew  to 
steal  upon  her  faculties.  Restlessly  she  paced  her  chamber,  looking 
out  ever  and  anon  wistfully  into  the  night,  striving  to  penetrate  the 
sea  of  darkness  that  lay  still  and  heavy  between  her  and  those  she 
loved.  One  by  one  the  hours  went  by,  and  none  came  to  cheer  her  or 
restore  her  terrified  heart  to  hope. 

In  that  dreary  night  when  she  was  thus  gradually  forced  to  see 
that  she  was  all  alone,  with  no  eye  but  God's  to  see  her,  no  hand  but 
his  to  support  her  ;  and  with  all  the  beings  whom  she  loved  in  danger 
of  swift  and  irremediable  destruction,  all  the  power  and  strength  of 
her  beautiful  character  came,  like  the  night-blooming  ceres,  into  flower. 
Wisely  and  cautiously  she  scanned  all  the  circumstances  by  which  they 
were  hemmed  in,  searched  her  memory  for  hints  to  guide  her  in  her 
future  proceedings,  and  enlightened  by  the  knowledge  that  ever  fol- 
lows virtuous  determination  and  right  action  in  behalf  of  others,  de- 
cided upon  what  was  best  to  be  done. 

Until  morning  no  step  could  be  taken.  Even  could  she  succeed 
in  procuring  a  carriage  and  attendants  at  that  hour,  she  knew  not 
where  to  proceed  in  search  of  Nina,  for  she  had  not  taken  the  precau- 
tion to  accertain  the  address  of  the  acquaintance  with  whom  she 
was  visiting.  Calmly  and  prayerfully,  therefore,  still  she  paced  the 
chamber  and  waited  for  the  morning.  She  even,  as  the  night  fell 
into  that  dark  and  breathless  swoon  preceding  the  hour  of  dawn, 
lay  down  upon  the  sofa,  and  for  a  few  moments  refreshed  her  agi- 
tated frame  and   exhausted  strength  with  needed  slumber. 

No  sooner,  however,  was  it  fairly  light  than  she  rang  the  bell,  and 
when  the  sleepy  domestic  came  in,  yawning  and  rubbing  his  astonished 
eyes  at  this  unwonted  summons,  she  bade  him  procure  a  carriage 
instantly  and  prepare  to  accompany  her. 

Her  first  step  was  to  ascertain  the  residence  of  Signora  Gherlandini, 
where  Nina  had  gone  ;  but  how  to  do  this  she  knew  not.  At  length 
it  struck  her  it  would  be  the  most  likely  way  to  find  out  some  of  the 
people  cormected  with  the  opera.  It  was  still  too  early  to  find  any 
one  at  the  opera  house,  and  she  could  think  of  no  way  but  to  wait  pa- 
tiently till  some  one  arrived.  She  accordingly  drove  there  and  sat  in 
her  carriage,  shivering  with  suspense  for  a  long  time.  The  sun  rose 
and  the  city  awoke  and  began  its  daily  toil.  Gradually  the  streets  filled 
with  passers  by  hastening  onward  to  their  vocations  ;  and  many  was 
the  brief  but  eager  glance  of  curiosity  cast  upon  that  vehicle  standing 
so  quiet  and  lonely  there  in  the  early  morning. 

But  even  opera  treasurers  do  come  to  their  oflSces  ;  and  at  last  when 
she  was  well  nigh  despairing,  a  creeping  figure  made  its  appearance 
and  entered  one  of  the  little  doors.  She  immediately  despatched  her 
servant  to  question  this  man,  and,  to  her  joy,  learned  from  him  the  di- 
rection so  much  needed.  It  was  a  long  way  off;  and  bidding  the  driver 
make  all  possible  speed,  as  life  and  death  hung  upon  every  moment, 
the  carriage  dashed  furiously  up  the  street,  arriving  at  the  houae 
where  her  Nina  was  staying,  at  the  moment  we  have  already  described. 


CLOSING    SCENE.  141 

The  meeting  between  the  two  friends  was  tender  and  joyful  beyond 
description.  Adelaide  had  never  had  a  daughter  to  love,  nor  had  she 
ever  dared  to  permit  herself  to  love  with  all  her  strength,  any  being 
but  this  sweet  and  gentle  child.  Nina  herself  had  never  known  a 
mother's  affection,  and  the  memory  of  her  childish  days,  passed  like  a 
dim  and  half  remembered  dream  in  the  chamber  of  her  father,  was 
too  vague  and  spiritual  to  answer  the  demand  of  her  heart  for  human 
sympathy  and  love.  Therefore  she  clung  to  Adelaide  with  all  the 
confiding  tenderness  of  a  daughter  and  the  trustfulness  of  a  sister. 
Long  Adelaide  held  her  to  her  bosom, calming  and  soothing  her  agitated 
frame  to  tranquility  and  peace  ;  and  when  they  all  returned  to  Mrs. 
Carlton's  house,  and  met  like  the  members  of  one  family  in  the  pleas- 
ant parlor,  they  seemed  as  cheerful  and  happy  as  if  sorrow  and  suffer- 
ings had  never  been. 

Mr.  Bunch,  our  somewhat  neglected,  but  by  no  means  forgotten 
friend,  had  "stuck"  to  Captain  Earnest,  to  use  his  own  elegant  dic- 
tion, "like  shoemaker's  wax."  He  seemed  to  feel  such  genuine  hap- 
piness, in  having  at  last  made  up  his  mind  to  be  honest,  that  Earnest 
could  not  find  it  in  his  heart  to  mortify  him  by  sending  him  away. 
He  therefore  made  his  appearance  in  Mrs.  Carlton's  parlor,  and 
shambled  off,  with  a  gait  like  that  of  a  New^foundland  dog,  to  a  queer- 
ly  shaped  lounge  in  a  corner,  in  which  he  ensconced  himself,  looking 
out  from  under  his  shaggy  eyebrows,  in  evident  satisfaction  and  pride, 
upon  the  party  whose  happiness  he  had  been  so  instrumental  in  pro- 
curing. 

"  Mr.  Bunch,"  at  length  said  Earnest,  suddenly  spying  him  out  in 
his  retreat,  "  come  forward,  my  good  and  faithful  friend,  and  receive 
your  share  of  my  thanks.  I  have  also  a  proposition  to  make  to  you, 
which,  if  you  accept,  may  serve  at  least  to  convince  you  of  the  sincerity 
of  my  gratitude  for  your  inestimable  services.  Come  to  me  to-morrow 
and  we  will  see  if  we  cannot  effect  an  understanding  with  each  other." 

Nina,  who  was  very  much  exhausted  by  the  suffering  and  excite- 
ment through  which  she  had  passed,  now  begged  to  be  permitted  to 
retire;  and  Captain  Earnest,  remembering  that  he  had  many  things  to 
do  to  amend  the  confusion  into  which  his  complicated  and  multifarious 
affairs  had  necessarily  fallen,  took  his  departure,  leaving  Celio  and 
Mrs.  Carlton  alone. 

There  was  a  long  silence,  during  which  both  seemed  lost  in  reverie. 
A-t  length  Mrs.  Carlton  spoke. 

"  Celio,"  she  said,  I  have  something  quite  serious  to  say  to  you  ; 
and,  as  I  am  a  good  deal  your  senior,  and  have  had  much  more  ex- 
perience of  life  than  you,  I  trust  you  will  receive  my  admonitions 
with  the  docility  of  a  son  to  his  mother." 

Celio  looked  up  in  surprise.  There  was  nothing  but  kindness 
and  affection,  save  perhaps  a  slight  tremor,  in  the  voice  of  Mrs.  Carl- 
ton, and  certainly  the  words  she  had  uttered  breathed  only  intoi'est 
and  affection ;  yet  somehow  a  strange  harsh  chill  passed  through  his 
heart  as  she  spoke,  and  he  felt  half  vexed  and  dissatisfied  both  with 
himself  and  her. 


142  CELIO. 

"Ton  say  nothing,  Celio,"  she  continued,  "  and  therefore  I  trust 
you  see  the  justice  of  my  observation." 

"  Go  on,  my  dear  madam,"  said  the  puzzled  Celio. 

After  another  pause  she  resumed,  but  spoke  with  apparent  pain 
and  difficulty,  as  if  she  were  struggling  to  keep  down  some  strong 
emotion  that  threatened  to  overmaster  her. 

"  Celio,"  she  said  at  length,  slowly  and  distinctly,  "  I  need  not  tell 
you  the  deep  interest  I  have  always  taken  in  your  welfare.  My 
love  for  my  dear  Nina  is  now  the  only  feeling  which  can  compare  with 
that  I  feel  for  you.  Therefore  listen  to  what  I  have  to  say,  for  it 
concerns  you  both  and  nearly.  I  think — nay  am  almost  certain — that 
Nina  loves  you,  and  I  believe  notwithstanding  the  dream  you  had  some 
time  ago,  that  you  love  her.  Nay,  start  not.  I  have  not  sought  to 
pry  into  your  secrets,  Celio ;  but  I  see  not  how  it  can  well  be  other- 
wise. The  happy  eclaircissement  of  this  morning  has  put  it  in  my 
power  to  say  what  I  have  long  wished  to  say.  I  am  now  able  to  give 
my  Nina  at  least  a  home,  and  I  offer  her  to  you  in  sincerity  and  true 
affection.     Take  her  Celio,  and  may  both  be  happy. 

For  some  moments  Celio  seemed  transfixed  with  astonishment.  At 
length  shadows  of  contending  emotions  fled  swiftly  across  his  face, 
and  he  spoke  wildly  and  rapidly. 

"  Oh  Adelaide,  this  cruel  misinterpretation  of  my  inmost  heart- 
secret  from  you  !  Would  I  had  died  ere  by  you  I  had  thus  been 
misunderstood.  Fond  and  self-deluding  fool  that  I  have  been  !  I  have 
said,  in  the  pride  of  my  vanity,  she  reads  my  heart,  knoAVS  and  sees 
all  the  wUd  worship  which  it  bears  for  her,  and  is  not  angry  ;  there- 
fore I  wait  patiently.  Years,  long,  long  years,  will  be  necejssary, 
until  I  have  made  a  name  worthy  of  so  much  perfection ;  and  when 
it  shall  be  no  more  a  selfish  insult  to  cast  myself  and  all  that  I  am  and 
hope  to  be  at  her  feet.  This  has  been  my  dream  of  life.  Long  and 
cruelly  I  struggled  with  the  love  that,  born  in  my  heart  without  my 
own  consent,  grew  and  flourished  there  until  its  roots  have  impregna- 
ted with  the  divine  aroma  of  love  its  every  fibre ;  and  now  she,  the 
being  whom  I  beheld  and  worshipped,  as  the  consummation  of  myself, 
the  sister-spirit  of  my  spirit,  who  in  another  and  brighter  world  was 
to  complete  my  imperfect  existence,  bids  me,  with  indiflerence  and  a 
mockery  of  motherly  affection  and  love,  to  wed  another  !" 

He  ceased,  choked  with  the  sobs  which  he  could  no  longer  repress ; 
and  throwing  himself  in  an  attitude  of  wild  abandonment  at  the  feet 
of  Adelaide,  he  wept  childlike  and  convulsively.  It  was  many  minutes 
ere  any  other  sound  was  heard  in  that  apartment,  save  the  young  man's 
despairing  sobs.  At  length  he  felt  her  hand  softly  touch  his  head,  and 
she  said  simply, 

"  Look  up,  Celio." 

A  thrill  of  joy  shot  through  his  heart,  for  that  ton^  was  not  to  be 
mistaken.  He  raised  his  face,  all  palo  and  tearful,  and  fixed  his  eyes 
upon  hers,  as  if  he  would  read  and  confirm  therein  a.  glorious  destiny. 

"  Celio,"  she  repeated,  while  all  the  deep  and  thoughtful  earnest- 


143  CONCLUSION. 

ness  of  her  nature  come  up  from  her  heart  to  beam  in  her  face  and 
eyes  ;  do  you  then  so  love  me,  with  all  your  heart  and  soul,  and  have 
I  suffered  my  own  weak  jealousy  to  blind  me  to  the  blessed  truth  ? 
Oh  !  this  is  too  much  happmess  to  be  real.  Know  you  not,  Oh  Celio, 
that  you  are  the  star  of  my  dreams,  the  angel  who  is  to  guide  me 
through  the  bright  beatitudes  of  the  spiritual  world  ?  and  shall  we  then 
anticipate  death  and,  by  being  united,  become  even  in  this  world  par- 
takers of  a  divine  life  1  Yes,  I  love  you  with  all  my  heart  and  soul. 
I  am  yours  forever  !" 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

Tableau  and  Curtain,  to  the  music  of  the  reader's  applause. 


Our  story  is  done ;  but  if  any  of  our  readers  have  still  preserved  a 
love  for  the  good  M  plan  of  disposing  in  detail  of  all  the  characters 
introduced  into  the  pages  of  a  book — tracing  out  their  histories,  one  by 
one,  until  all  are  locked  comfortably  into  their  nuptial  chambers  or 
lying  peacefully  in  their  graves — let  such  accompany  us  to  the  farm 
of  the  robbers,  lying  on  the  green  banks  of  the  sunny  Connecticut — 
Earnest's  present  to  his  old  companions.  Here  he  will  find  a  wonder- 
ful transformation  indeed — not  only  in  the  face  of  nature,  but  in  the 
character  of  the  human  occupants  of  the  place.  The  sterile  hills  and 
•worn-out  pastures,  by  the  application  of  a  few  simple  practical  discove- 
ries in  agricultural  chemistry,  have  been  covered  with  fruthful  and  lux- 
uriant abundance.  Here  waves  the  yellow  wheat,  in  rich  and  swelling 
undulations,  where  once  the  breeze  sang  mournfully,  among  the  alders 
and  the  brown  mulleins :  while  in  the  center  of  an  immense  garden, 
filled  with  every  species  of  beautiful  flower  and  useful  vegetable, 
stands  a  fair  and  comely  mansion,  surrounded  by  a  little  village  of 
subordinate  dwellings.  Everywhere  prosperity  and  plenty  smile 
around — and  the  aspect  of  the  whole  scene  is  like  the  reali- 
zation of  some  beautiful  dream  of  the  future. 

It  is  a  bright  and  sunny  day,  and  every  thing  invites  to  peace  and 
happiness.  Let  us  enter  this  fairy  realm,  and  see  if  its  interior 
answers  to  the  outside  form.  As  we  approach,  troops  of  sweet,  fresh- 
looking  children,  bright  and  joyous  with  the  atmosphere  of  that  un- 
tamed independence,  without  which  childhood  dies,  leap  out  from  every 
flowery  avenue  ;  and  wreathing  themselves  in  graceful  bands,  welcome 
us  with  dances  and  pretty,  gleeful  shoutings.  Anon  appear  many 
full-grown  people,  men  and  women,  all  serene  and  happy,  with  their  not 
unlovely  faces  shining  with  truth  and  peace.  It  seems  that  we  shouid 
know  those  features — and  yet  it  cannot  be  !     Surely  it  is  a  dream  I 


144 


CELIO. 


But  no  1^ — They  draw  nearer — they  hold  out  their  hands  smilingly — 
they  recognize  us,  and  hasten  eagerly  to  bid  us  welcome.  Here  is 
our  old  acquaintance  the  Screech-Owl,  with  the  saucy  Rosahna  leaning 
confidingly  upon  his  arm.  Behind  them  came  Dandy  Jake  with  little 
Kitty — and  Virginia  and  Margaret,  and  Matilda,  and  at  last  Pat 
Rainbow  himself,  with  his  faithful  Molly,  who  seems  to  have  moli- 
fied  herself  to  her  girlish  gentleness,  and  no  longer  kicks  her  lord 
and  master  out  of  bed.  And  here,  too,  as  I  live,  come  Mr.  Bunch 
and  his  amiable  spouse,  attended  by  Pipson  !  Do  our  eyes  deceive 
us !  No — by  the  veritable  Job  Pipson  himself !  He  is  a  sweet, 
gentle-looking  old  man,  now,  and  a  little  tottering  child — the  young- 
est walking  anatomy  in  the  domain — clings  to  his  fingers  and  looks 
up  trustfully  in  his  face — a  touching  illustration  of  the  meeting  of 
infancy  and  age,  at  the  point  where  the  sphere  of  life  unites  its  end- 
less circle. — All  are  the  same  as  we  have  known  them,  yet  how  diffe- 
rent ! 

"  Hard  featured  men,  or  with  proud  angry  looks 

Or  cold,  staid  gait,  or  false  and  hollow  smiles, 

Or  the  dull  sneer  of  self-loved  ignorance, 

Or  other  such  foul  masks  with  which  ill  thoughts 

Hide  that  fair  being  whom  we  spirits  call  man  ; 

And  women,  too,  ugliest  of  all  things  evil, 

When  false  or  frowning.        #*♦•«• 

I  hid  myself 
Within  a  fountain  in  the  public  square, 
Where  I  lay  like  the  reflex  of  the  moon 
Seen  in  a  wave  under  the  green  leaves  ;  and  soon 
Those  ugly  human  shapes  and  visages, 
Of  whom  I  spoke  as  having  wrought  me  pain, 
Passed  floating  through  the  air,  and  fading  still 
Into  the  winds  that  scattered  them  ;  and  those 
From  whom  they  passed  seemed  mild  and  lovely  forms 
After  some  foul  disguise  had  fallen."  * 

Within  the  fair  home  of  this  lovely  domain,  and  surrounded  by  its 
happy  and  grateful  inhabitants,  who  owed  all  to  the  wise  goodness 
of  Captain  Earnest,  the  marriage  of  Celio  and  Adelaide  was  celebrated. 
Earnest  gave  the  bride  away,  and  Merrivale  and  Nina,  assisted  by 
Dandy  Jake  and  the  little  Kitty,  acted  as  groom  and  bridesmaid. 
When  the  ceremony  was  concluded,  Merrivale  gently  stooped  and 
whispered  something  in  Nina's  ear,  which  caused  the  rich  blood  to 
dart  like  rosy  sunlight  over  the  heaven  of  her  face.  To  our  fair 
readers  we  leave  the  solution  of  the  whispered  mystery,  and  the  ga- 
thering up  of  the  links  still  missing  in  our  chain-fable.  Our  task  is 
over.  We  have  conducted  a  company  of  human  beings  through  a 
career  of  human  crime  and  suffering  to  that  peace  and  happiness 
which  are  the  natural  inheritance  of  man,  and  to  which  the  whole 
world  at  length  begins  to  look  forward  and  aspire. 

Farewell  ! 


•  Prometheus  Unbound,  Act  3,  Scene  4. 


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BY     NED     B  U  N  T  L  I  N  E , 

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